Paradox
by Sythe
Summary: If you're given a chance to do everything again, to right all the wrongs, would you take it? Yugi made a choice and travelled 3000 years to the past, all for the wish of one soul. To the king that was lost, even to himself. AtemxYugi. Strong swearing.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: do not own anything…do not sue, if you do, I'll sic my demon cat on you

**Disclaimer:** do not own anything…do not sue, if you do, I'll sic my demon of a sister on you. I assure you that you'd not like it…her…it. Whatever!

Warning: shounen ai, possible yaoi.

**Warning:** some details from the original series have been edited by me to better accommodate the storyline so don't be too surprised when you see some unknown things showing up.

This fic was born from…a lot of frustration both at the ending of the anime/manga and at the many loose ends that were never answered at the end. 

_**Prologue: Three steps forward, one step back**_

'_Half a soul is a soul still, albeit a lacking one.'_

_Anonymous_

-o0o-

"Hear, spirit of the shadow, demon of the dark…" the pharaoh glared angrily forward, whipping his hands out in a wild arc. 

"Thee who have trespassed on my kingdom shall be bound, by the power of my name, pharaoh Atem. For my will is as strong, and my kingdom as great…"

"I…" He said again with a flash of determination in his eyes. But it was only for a second, and the next it was gone, replaced by confusion and a hint of annoyance. "…can't do this!" 

"I don't get it!"

He glared in exasperation at the fake demon in front of him as if blaming it for his problem before turning to the other man standing in a corner of the stage.

"I…professor Mutou…I just can't understand it! How can an 18 year old kid just go sacrifice his life and put his soul into damnation for eternity…and feel right about it?" 

The actor jumped off the stage, swiped the script paper off the surface of a chair then proceeded to sat on it as the other person approached him.

"Well…that's something every one has been wondering about since the day we discovered his tomb, pharaoh Atem that is. But I'm sure you did a good job looking like him up there, Sa-ad."

The actor, Sa-ad Amre Diar, looked from the script then at him and then back at script again.

"It's illogical…dumb even!" 

He said with a frown that looked quite out of place on his mature face. It was because of that certain manly and mature charm that Sa-ad was chosen for his lead role in the coming big-budget historical film about an Egyptian pharaoh. The film was based on the newly discovered and greatly controversial pharaoh, Atem, one of the youngest pharaohs in Egypt history.

It was only a film others might say, but it meant the world to Sa-ad. It was, after all, his heritage.

Sadly, he was no script writer, and the plot was not up to him to decide. Consequently, Sa-ad found himself saddled with a character that he couldn't understand, a character whose psychology and historical role had been in debates for quite a while now.

A pharaoh that did not have even a body to embalm into was either a much loved pharaoh, or a damned pharaoh, a cursed pharaoh.

And this person, he looked back the other way, Mutou Yugi, the discoverer of the once Lost Pharaoh, was going to help him get in touch with his role.

"He's eighteen." Sa-ad began with a click of tongue as if evaluating this fact. 

"…been king since 10. He's good looking, smart, loves his people, also very good at this whole hocus pocus thingy, never been defeated in anything…" He flicked his one free finger at the script to emphasize.

"…and then when the only guy that can defeat him came around, the villain, he just went and sacrificed his life to seal that evil, damning his soul to eternity in the process."

"He's a fucking Mary Sue…Gary Stu, what ever!" Sa-ad concluded hotly.

Yugi chuckled at his antique, but Sa-ad ignored him.

"This thing is more like the product of some deranged fan girl on hit than a professional script." He said, frowning.

"But it is true. They said it is based on historical facts, what ever it is that you have found."

"Yes, it is." Yugi agreed, smiling all the while. He could tell that the actor was very tempted to argue that reality wasn't like that even if he had to deny the proof that Yugi and his crew had dug up in Egypt. If it weren't for Yugi, he might have done just that.

"Professor, you're not helping."

"Hmmm… Tell me. Tell me, what sort of a person would do that? I can't imagine a kid… probably a spoilt kid. I know them. I've read them, oh huge-ass power Pharaoh and all that since I was a wee toddler. If they are anything, they are nothing like Hollywood painted them out to be. Most of them are tyrants, lord of million slaves, gold and all that shit. The biggest project of their lives is their huge-ass grave stones which everyone nowadays adores for some reason I don't know. It's only some fucking greedy dude's tombstone for Ra's sake. If they are somewhat good, they win a few wars and such, or maybe survive a 7 year long famine …like that superstitious dude in the bible…."

Yugi was laughing out right at this point, but his laughter soon ceased as the aggravated actor's voice tuned down a notch and his face suddenly turned into perplex thoughtfulness. 

"…but this. This is…" He paused, as if in a lost for words. " Professor, I've tried every logical way I can follow to figure out this guy's psyche, trying to build up the sort of personality that would actually do something this stupid…been going on with this for months now…but I can't…" 

"…and shooting is in a week." He added. "I can't even get in touch with my character and shooting is the next week. I can't feel his personality. I don't …know him!"

Sa-ad eyed Yugi with something akin to desperation in his eyes, a silent call for help, but the actor wouldn't say it. Sometimes, Yugi thought looking fondly back at the actor's emerald irises, he was way too proud for his own good. But on the other hand, he was very passionate about his work to a degree that was almost scary if Yugi himself weren't like that as well. It was a quality that the archeologist appreciated. 

Yugi knew the actor didn't need to push so far as the film was focused more on the historical events than the real-life Pharaoh. But true to his nature, Sa-ad never did anything in half, and he most certainly did not act half-hearted either. He took on his characters, no matter who, or on some occasions, what they were as if they were a part of him. It was this quality that had earned him an Oscar at only 23 years old, an age that most people would associate with newbie in the land of art.

They had known each other for some time now, when Yugi had first started to visit the stage site of the film to help out. It was not a long time, but neither was it short.

Originally, Yugi was asked to help with the production of the film since anything concerning the once Lost Pharaoh was his expertise, and he was quite enthusiastic to help seeing as he was going to stay in Egypt for some time. He had deliberately gone out of his way to avoid most of the cast crew as long as his service wasn't required, feeling discomforted and out of place with the glamorous group.

It was funny that someone up there had seen it fit to make them bumped into each other, the lead role and the hired help, accidentally of course.

It was a site that Yugi thought no actor would wonder to, his favorite digging holes, dirt, heat, sun and all that being the bane to most of them. Apparently he had thought wrong as a very pissed-off Sa-ad wondered right into him. 

They had hit off wonderfully, in the sense that they fought…with proper fists and feet and even hair yanking (Sa-ad had thought that Yugi's hair was fake), which till these days still managed to shock Yugi. In hindsight, he couldn't see the reason why they had fought since Yugi didn't do anything to provoke the actor. But then again, experience had taught him that an irate Sa-ad was a very…explosive Sa-ad, and Yugi's personality wasn't exactly his cup of tea at that time either.

They had wound up as friends sometime later, when Yugi had gotten to know the foul-mouth actor better, albeit involuntarily. He had come to like the other even, and had sought out the actor on many occasions, sometimes just for his company in this lonely land of Egypt, sometimes to help him with his role.

Sa-ad was, in way of saying, a man in love with his own country. Not the image of what Egypt was to tourists and Hollywood, the gold, the glamour, the sultry harem, but rather the spirit of the country, the sand, the heat, the temperamental desert. The actor was as bound to the vicious land as the ancient Egyptians were to the Nile, the river that brought to them both the life of harvest and the deadly alligators.

"Hmm…" Yugi weaved his fingers together and put his chin on them as his thoughts gathered in his head. His audience was waiting patiently for him.

"I suppose that's how it would appear to you if you look at it that way, a king dying to protect his people" He said.

"But you're looking at the sacrifice as an act of kindness, a selfless one."

"What else could it be? He gave his life"

"True. But there are suicidal kids everyday in the world." Yugi said matter-of-factly.

The actor frowned at this but said nothing.

"You're limiting him. You're taking him like he's some sort of selfless hero, and then try to build a backing machination that would allow such an image, his psyche as you've said. Which is where your problem stemmed from because you can not figure what sort of a person would willingly give their life for complete strangers …and make it believable"

His audience nodded in agreement.

"Let's think back on this matter. What if the sacrifice wasn't a real sacrifice? Maybe it was something else, a suicidal act, maybe even an accepted duty. Human sacrifice isn't exactly a strange thing in Ancient Egypt."

'…or maybe a calculated move of a strategist' He added in his head, but didn't share his thought.

"And the pharaoh…when you think about his action, using himself to stop his enemy, even when the price is his own life, it might seem like a selfless act, but on a deeper level, it shows the pharaoh's distrust."

"…distrust?" Sa-ad echoed his line, a hint of confusion on his face.

Yugi nodded. 

"He was a powerful pharaoh, he had an army, priests, millions of slaves, and a whole country at his disposal, not to mention the allied countries he could have called for help. But what did he do? There was no mentioning of him summoning any help. He used himself as the weapon against an enemy he deemed powerful."

"Why is this?" Yugi looked meaningfully at the actor.

"Because he never trusted the others to do it. He didn't think that they were strong enough to defeat his enemy. He only trusted in himself …and he did"

Sa-ad blinked at realization came to him. He was quite for a few minutes as he mulled over this new found insight and Yugi let him. 

"Someone who do this…a suspicious bastard…or maybe a very lonely soul."

"Maybe…" Yugi voiced his agreement. "It's not really strange when you think about it at his position. He was pharaoh since he was very young. He had no friends, only rivals, enemies, and temporary allies. Anything he did he had to consider carefully if he wanted to keep his throne…and his life and trust was not easy. There was no mentioning of any prominent figures in his life, no mother, sisters or brothers, no lovers either. He had a whole harem …but no favorite."

"All his life, the only thing he knew and trusted probably was he himself." 

"True! Then there was his father."

"His father?"

"Pharaoh Akunumkanon, who also died sacrificing his life, although there was no documenting as to why he did it. There was mentioning that he was a good pharaoh though."

"So he even had an idol. Does this family have hereditary mental instability?" Sa-ad groaned out, but it was a half-hearted groan, and his eyes were already turning into an intense deep green as his mind explored the imaginary Atem in his head. Yugi had seen him in this state once before, and it fascinated him. In a way, Sa-ad reminded him of his other self, deeply enthralled in a hard duel.

"He must have…it must have been tough for him, keeping his throne and triumphing over his enemies. In a way, it's something he's proud of but also his undoing, his inability to be defeated. Letting other people help him would have been a defeat in a sort of twisted way. It was both his strength and weakness. The last act of his life…was to protect this belief, that's he's the undefeated king, even if he had to pay with his own life."

"Professor…if I didn't know better I'd have thought that you know him personally or something…" The actor was eying him weirdly. "…on second thought, you probably do…you did dig him up after all…That's twisted. That's obsessed professor. Are you obsessed with this dude?"

Yugi gave a barking laugh at this, but it was one without mirth.

"Yeah…I guess I am"

It was not a long discussion after that they had, but it had cleared off the obstacles. Yugi knew he didn't need to push further. They continued on for talking for sometimes after that with Sa-ad continually dishing details that he somehow thought up, eagerly awaiting Yugi's reaction towards each one. There were things that Yugi knew was nothing like the pharaoh he knew, but he did not object. This Atem was a different one, after all. This pharaoh belonged to the screen, to the mind of an actor.

When they finished, it was way past noon and the approaching dusk was shining in through the large overhead windows. Lunch time had sneaked past both of their notice. Yugi would have to leave soon for the museum he was working and living in.

As they stood and dusted of imaginary dirt from their clothes, Sa-ad gave him a Kit-kat bar. For energy, he said, seeing that the actor might barge into Yugi's abode later. 

"What, no flowers?" The archeologist smiled impishly at his partner.

The actor was still for a while with an unreadable look on his face. And just as Yugi had started to think that he wasn't going to get a reply out of that, he spoke.

"How about a kiss in stead?"

Before Yugi had time to even register the question, Sa-ad had already lunged forward and gave him a wet and sound kiss on the cheek.

The petit archeologist squeaked.

"Arghh! Saliva!"

He was about to retaliate, but the actor was already half out of the door. He called after him in dazed disgust.

"Where ya going?"

"Where else? Chess…bastard musta been some sort of strategist." 

The latter half of his reply was muffled and seemed to echo far-off. Yugi groaned as he wiped the wetness on his cheek off with a tissue from his pocket.

Crazy actors and their crazy antics. 

Then he too headed for the door.

-o0o-

The museum of Khanadu where Yugi stayed and worked for whenever he wasn't on an expedition was a place of mourning. The place was built by dead men some hundred years ago, and it now housed its dead man relics. People came here, worked and died, hundreds of generations and none of them different. In a vague thought, Yugi wondered if he would someday add on to that pile of dead souls wondering Egypt.

Archeology, after all, wasn't a work in the park. It wasn't just a passing interest either. You got in. You stayed, and never came out.

Some would say that that was a rather depressing way to describe his own profession, but Yugi like it anyway. It was reminder of the weight of decision. Three years ago, Yugi had come to choose between the world of duelist, of magic and monster on plastic cards, and the world of old tales dug up from sand and durst.

He had chosen the latter, much to the surprise and protest of his friends. Of course he didn't completely abandon the game of duel either. He still participated in tournaments once in a while, most of it hosted and prodded by Kaiba corp. and a certain tyrant of a businessman who just wouldn't settle to let his sworn rival slip away.

He still won, of course, still the King of Game. But the game was no longer his whole life, no longer the sun of his own universe.

Now he had a different one, a burning need to find something, like a hollow hole in his chest. He didn't even know what it was, only knew that it was here, somewhere in Egypt.

In hindsight, he was still somewhat surprised at the strength of his momentum at the time. Burning need didn't just cover it. It was a crushing force that pushed and pulled Yugi through his last year in high school within 3 months, earning him a week in hospital for prolonged exhaustion and a scholarship to university in Melbourne. It drove him still through college, haunting him day and night.

At 20 year old, Yugi was the youngest archeologist to make a breakthrough discovery.

The press had made a big deal out of what he had achieved. It was near earth splitting to them. They had made a whole saga out of it. A world of old startled and awed by a young one. They had let him graduated his college 2 years early because of that, deeming him already weaned to face the rest, which was true in a way.

He was so enthralled with the land of desert that people said he was in love, or should have been born an Egyptian.

His friends were worried by the changes. Even Yugi himself was, but gradually he settled with this newly found aspect of him and so did his life.

Nowadays Yugi mostly worked for the museum, researching the ancient artifacts, and translating relic parts in exchange for an abode and a monthly salary. Once or twice a year he'd go onto a duel competition, only to win and leave rather quickly and quietly lest his fans found out where he lived. He did go on expeditions once in a while but those were costly and he could only afford them if he had enough saving (mostly the winnings from the duels) or a wealthy and willing patron.

His friends kept contact with him through the internet but not as often as he'd have like, partly because technology was still a hard and expensive thing in Egypt, partly because they all led separate lives now. Other than that the now archeologist led a semi recluse life, only sporadically interrupted by one eccentric actor with a pot mouth.

It was for these reasons that Yugi was rather surprised when a parcel arrived at the museum with his name on it. 

He took the parcel from the hands of the deliverer who didn't even bother with asking if he was the right person. He was tempted to call and ask him but didn't as the man was already turning around a street corner and promptly disappeared from view.

'What's up with that?' Yugi thought in his head as he walked back into his office, looking down at the unremarkable bundle in his arm. It was not large but rather heavy and seemed to have been hastily wrapped with thin rope and brown paper. His name and address were written on one side. There was no return address however. 

"Strange." He murmured as his hands untied the rope and pulled off the wrapping paper. The parcel gave off a clacking sound. It was a plain-looking square wooden box with a slide-off lid up on top.

Yugi slid off the lid and looked at the content inside.

The golden parts of the Millennium Puzzle stared back at him.

-o0o-

The returning Millennium Puzzle was a literal bomb to Yugi's life. It had crushed off the semi truce he had had with himself for years now, and bombarded his mind with countless questions, all without an answer. His work was almost abandoned and most of his projects were pushed aside as much as possible to provide free time for the puzzle.

The first thing he did was reassembling the thing into its original shape, the up-side-down pyramid, and tried it on.

If he had any hope that something would happen, he was disappointed.

There was nothing. No shadow, no twinkling feel of magic, no soul in his heart. The only thing the pyramid did was hanging limply from his neck, dead and heavy, just like Yugi's hope.

'Had it lost its power?' Yugi thought one night as he lied on his bed, his fingers tracing the familiar curve of Horus's eye deeply arched into the gold. 

It was a possibility, but then why was it sent to him? And why now, 3 years after it had all ended.

Coincidence? No. He no longer believed in coincidence, not for a very long time. Hadn't his life been enough a proof for that? Nothing was coincidence.

And who sent it?

Yugi thought of the man who delivered the puzzle to him, but quickly pushed that aside. If he were the sender, he doubted he would want to reveal himself so soon and for something so trivial.

The last time he had seen the Millennium items were years ago and it was of them falling down an endless abyss.

'They had finished their duty." Isis had declared. But what duty? Was the question that had haunted Yugi since then. What could possibly be the duty of items made from the blood, pain and hatred of dead souls? What could they do when in order to use them, the person must harbor darkness in his heart?

The Millennium Items were power given form. And true to their origin, they were invitation into darkness, into the realm of shadow itself. While it might have been useful for ruling and defending a country, its side effect was obvious and would be quite severe on those with a weak heart. The dark soul of Marik had proved to be an impressive testament.

Yugi didn't get any sleep that night or the night next to that. Questions swarmed his head, and he found himself frustrated at the lack of answer.

It was at the end of that week that Yugi decided to try and put an end to it. It was a relic of the lost pharaoh, then the servants of the pharaoh would know what to do with it. He was going to pay a visit to the Ishtars.

-o0o-

"Whoever invented the phrase 'easier said than done' should be clubbed, skinned, deep fried, then fed to my monster Kuribo. Wait…scratch that! Kuribo is too easy on him…make that…Summoned Skull, yeah Summoned Skull, show the bastard what fear is" Grumbled a very irate Yugi as his numbing hands and face protested and pleaded for a rest for what seemed like the umpteenth time in the hour.

The Ishstar family had moved…and they had done that for 2 weeks now.

Yugi had paid for this piece of information with 3 hours of blind searching the nearby town of Kassan after entering and leaving a very much empty and abandoned tomb that was once the ancestor home of the Ishtars.

The man who told Yugi this also let him knew that they had moved somewhere south, going much deeper into the dessert, in one of the valleys nestled within a maze of canyon that can only be found on this side of the Sahara. They were on some sort of pilgrimage, and would move continuously, which also meant that the more Yugi postponed going after them, the less of a chance he had of being able to grab them.

Which was the reason why he was badly in need of a long overhaul now after 5 hours straight riding on his V-Strom 650 through the dirt plains of the Sahara, chasing after a family of bad-timed recluses. The archeologist now turned temporary head-hunter was torn between feeling lucky or unlucky. On one hand, it was quite convenient for him to be the owner of a hybrid dirt bike renown for being able to endure even the worst type of terrain, an unexpected prize from one of the past tournaments. On the other hand, Yugi was now braving the scratching sand and harsh wind of the dessert, had been for hours now, and probably would be for several more.

Yugi kept pushing onward despite the protest his body was giving him. He was tired, yes, but his mind was more than fed-up with all the mind-loop, the constant question and stirring regret.

The engine of his machinery beast roared viciously as the whole bike bounced off a particularly sandy slope, its wheels clinging to the supposedly slippery surface like glue and shrieking with the grating noise of grounded sand.

The bike slid to a stop at a turning corner of the canyon, its headlight cutting a path through the shadow of the dessert, shining brightly off the stone surface of something that could have been a stellar gate had it not been in the middle of a dessert.

Yugi smiled triumphantly. It was his destination. 

In front of the stone gate stood two figures, one was male, the other female.

Yugi was about to smile at the Ishtar siblings but stopped when his eyes caught sight of familiar objects on them. Malik was holding a golden rod in his hand and a golden tauk glittered on Ishizu's forhead.

In unison they spoke, and a sudden dread rose up from the pit of Yugi's stomach.

"We've been expecting you."

-o0o-

"So…are you going to tell me what's been going on?" Yugi put the chocolate mug, now empty of its content on the table, his eyes almost pasted on the glittering items in front of him, all seven of them. The warm liquid chocolate inside his belly had warmed him considerably and unintentionally gave him the strength needed.

Across the table, looking at him were Ishizu Ishtar and her brother. A third figure lingered in the unlit shadow of the room, but his turban and robe were already enough to identify the man, or rather… ghost.

Yugi traced his finger lazily on the handle of the mug, patiently waiting for the forth coming answer, feeling way too weary and too warm in his seat to press on.

"The one who bears the pharaoh's heart."

Yugi looked up at this, a hint of perplex on his face.

"What are you talking about? He's no longer with me."

"Just because you do not see him doesn't mean you do not bear him. You do, as a matter of fact. Half of it…but not quite"

"I thought you were dead. You know, when he went to the underworld, released from duties…"

"My duty here is not yet finished…." Shadi prodded at the Millenium Items with one of his fingers.

" …and neither are they."

"They don't work any more."

"Doesn't matter. They are keys still, and their power doesn't just stop at shadow magic"

"What's going on?"

There was no forth coming answer this time, but Shadi was eying him with strange glint in his eyes, as if he was waiting for something.

"All right…" Yugi said slowly, feeling the ache settled into his muscle.

"Are you going to say something? You obviously want something but if you're not saying, I can't give."

"Mutou Yugi, you've changed."

Yugi gave a dry laugh at this. Too many people, too many accusing fingers….too much…

"It is true then. I've never really believed it but…for one can not truly live without the other, and one can not truly die without the other either."

"Wha…?" The archeologist blinked at this. He couldn't have been implying what Yugi was thinking…could he?

"Mutou Yugi, you want the truth?" The question was curt and sounded like lightning to Yugi. He nodded affirmative.

"Then…" Shadi lowered his upper body and he was staring straight into Yugi's eyes. The brown and dilated irises glaring straight into his purple ones.

"Mutou Yugi. You bear half of the pharaoh's soul. You are half of his soul."

Yugi was still and silent. In the poorly lit room, he could have been mistaken for a statue, a very life-like statue, but one nonetheless. 

"In all of the 7 Millenium Items, only one has one bearer that can truly activate its power and gain access to the soul inside, the Millennium Puzzle. The other 6 items have always been inherited and used by many people as long as they have the ability to as you have seen with the Millennium Rod. Have you ever asked yourself of this, Mutou Yugi?"

Yes. Yes, he had. Many times actually. But the petite archeologist didn't move, nor did he speak.

"In fact, the Millennium Puzzle wasn't even called a puzzle before the pharaoh…"

There was no question as to who 'the pharaoh' was.

"…it was simply called the Millennium Pyramid on its point of creation. However, under the order of the pharaoh, it was broken apart and made into the puzzle that would bear the pharaoh's soul…or rather, half of his soul. This was to ensure that no matter what happens, only one person can truly call upon the full power of the puzzle, the other half of his soul…You"

The…king with a maze for a heart, whose heart was lost even to himself. Didn't Yugi know? He'd always suspected but never dared to come to a conclusion. Everything was just so perfectly aligned, like a puzzle. The one who discovered the puzzle was his grandfather whose resemblance was strikingly similar to the pharaoh's vizier Shimon, not to mention their both possessing the Exodia set, Shimon's own ka, and the one who solved the puzzle, him, also bore a resemblance to the soul inside. Was that why Yugi had always felt so right with him, so protected,…so…whole?

But that made no sense what so ever.

"That's madness." Yugi said, reflecting his thoughts inside.

"Why would he do that?"

Shadi was silent, and so were the Ishtars.

"Say…if…IF …I believed you…which I don't…not yet…"

"…Then tell me…for someone who paid with his own soul to imprison evil, who knowingly did so, would do something so stupid? Half a soul sealed, and the other half free…would ensure that someday the puzzle will be solved, freeing up his soul in the process, and thus…thus… releasing the seal of Zorc…at the very least partly."

Yami Bakura was awoken from his prison, the Millennium Ring, approximately the same time as the pharaoh.

"Surely he must know that by doing that, he opened up a chance for Zorc to be set free." Atem was a strategist. He wasn't someone that would make such a move without properly thinking them through. It would have been so much simpler if one of the Millennium Items was destroyed, thus sealing Zorc forever.

"Yes. I believe he did know the…possible…consequence of his action."

"Then why?"

Only silence met his question. Yugi looked imploringly at the Egyptian ghost, who was wearing an almost defeated look on his face. If Yugi didn't know better he would have said that he had struck some sore sport there, did he now? Strangely enough, even the elder Ishtar was sporting a similar look.

"Yugi-kun…" It was Ishizu that spoke out, a hint of sadness and surprisingly desperation on her face. She had switch from Arabian to Japanese as if to calm Yugi.

"I…we…" She stumbled with indecision, throwing a glance at Shadi before continuing on. " That is the question whose answer we also want to know."

"That is…no body ever know what is it that the pharaoh was aiming for."

"My …my ancestor, Isis…no. Before Zorc, before everything had started, the pharaoh was…restless. He was always…so aggravated …somehow…months, years before anything happened. It seemed like he was waiting for something…constantly seeking… looking…for something. He was holding ceremonies, rituals, sacrifices even…without the priest's assistance…and…there was a rumor…a rumor that he had wanted to commission the Millennium Pyramid into the puzzle it is today even before Zorc."

She stopped to consider for a moment.

"We, the priests, we were …confused, worried. The pharaoh's rule was…tentative at that point in time. He was still very young. The country was under threat from its neighbors, Hittite and Mitanni. The nobles and court officials were distrustful. He could have been dethroned any time…if he weren't such a good king, such a ruthless king. The six priests, the six Millennium bearers, were under oath to protect him and his throne when we took our Items. But even us at that time didn't completely trust his ability as a king. He was young…so young…and, it all seemed a game to him at times, not real people but pieces on a board" 

The last part of the sentence was a mere murmur as if Ishizu was not talking to Yugi but herself. The petite archeologist heard it anyway in the small room.

"We tried to console him…to ask him what he was trying to do…to trust us…."

And she turned silent all of a sudden, as if afraid…or ashamed.

"He…It was his heart's desire, he said. The only thing he ever wanted in his life. We couldn't do anything but wait and hope. But even now…even now…"

'So that was it?' Yugi thought in his head. 'Shame. It must be such a strike for the king's most trusted to not know what it was that their king wanted, till this time 3000 years after. No wonder it was Ishizu explaining and not Shadi. The old ghost wouldn't be able to bear it.'

"So…" said Yugi, feeling generous enough to lift the task of furthering their 5000 year old shame from the ghost and Ishizu. "…should I take it that I am, somehow, related to his, as you put it, heart's desire."

Shadi nodded in confirmation.

"How, exactly? He's a dead soul. He's already passed to the underworld."

"There is no such thing as underworld. Your mere presence and the other priest' incarnations are enough proof to this."

"Isn't that a heresy coming from you, Shadi? Egyptian priest and all."

"I am no a longer a priest, not for 3000 years now. I would be a fool to keep believing in gods that abide to human's summoning."

"I believe that the pharaoh had calculated this possibility. The Millennium Items, even though they no longer possess power of their own, they are still keys…"

"To what door?" asked Yugi.

"To chances, Yugi, a chance …to right all the wrongs, to rewrite everything."

The afore-mentioned archeologist was still for a full minute, his brain still unable to process what was being told to him. Was the old ghost telling him what he was thinking? Did he really or were that just Yugi and his overactive imagination? 

"Yugi, we're not really sure what it's going to do but we know that whatever it is, it's going to undo everything, everything from the day that Zorc happened, every pain we've ever …."

She didn't get a chance to finish whatever it was that she wanted to say as Yugi already cut in, growing out from under his teeth.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

Ishizu was stunned, probably at the idea of polite and gentle little Yugi cursing like that. Tough luck, lady. Yugi thought. That was history, and I'm not that.

"No, Yugi, we're not, as you put it, fucking kidding you." It was Shadi that answered him in his usual deadpanning face.

The archeologist would have laughed if he were in a different situation, but it was not, so he settled for silence, lowering his head down and shaking it slowly.

"What is it that you're afraid of Yugi?"

"You're telling me to forsake everything I own, my life, my friends, family, possibly destroying this entire world…to right your wrongs, something that you didn't even know was going to work or not. Tell me, why shouldn't I be afraid? It's my life."

The old ghost laughed mockingly.

"Life? What life Yugi? Is it the one that you threw away when you abandoned your friends, your grandfather for this land? When was the last time your friends contacted you, a month, two? Or maybe more…"

"I didn't… how did you…?" But he was too shocked to say anything else.

"…or is it the life that you didn't want when you went onto those suicide trips of yours? Venturing into the desert without even a water bottle, for days, nights. Did your grandfather know? Or did you hide it from him like you did to the rest of the world? Specialty digging trip you say? With your hands?"

"…and where were you…where were you…" Shadi paused for a single second, as if he was taking pity on Yugi before uttering his cruel words.

"…where were you when the last of your family left you? Hiding maybe? Was it a sunny day…or maybe a rainy day? I can't really remember. A lot of people died in 3000 years. No one is spared nor will they ever be… are they?"

And he stopped, letting the injury sink in. The archeologist was looking down at his clenched fists and in the dim light, he looked like a broken doll, pretty…but broken.

"What are you looking for Yugi? What are you seeking?"

The insatiable thirst, the longing, the crave, the pull, the yearning constantly gnawing at him…for something he had no idea of. Yugi was chasing after a shadow and on his long run, he forgot that he was only human after all.

"Shut the fuck up! You don't know anything…" It was a weak retaliation. It was no retaliation. It was defeat.

"That's sad for a life Yugi. That's pathetic." The ghost looked anything but sad.

"You need him just as much as he needs you. This you can not deny."

The archeologist was silent again but they all knew there would be no more protest. Shadi had won.

"…I need sometime…to think…"

"…you have all the time you need, Yugi, all the time in the world." Said Shadi, pulling the Millenium Puzzle up from the table. "When you're ready, just call for me."

Shadi was now lowering himself down again and looking at him straight in the eye.

"But now…now…my king"

Gently, he hung the cord of the puzzle around Yugi's neck and in a swift move brought his face to millimeters away from Yugi, staring straight at him in the eyes. For a single second, the archeologist thought he could have felt ticking warmth from the ghost. Then…

"Wake up!"

And Yugi did, gasping and hyperventilating. It was his room, dark and smelling strongly of his own cold sweat.

"Waa…was that a dream?" He hoped but doubted it.

Yugi fumbled for the light switch he knew was on the right side of his bed-side counter.

The light went up and once again Yugi found himself staring at the Millenium Item…only this time, there were seven of them, all gleaming mockingly at him.

-o0o-

Cairo night was cold and beautiful, in a way that he knew it could kill him anytime if he was careless. Yugi wondered the street aimlessly as he let his thoughts off on its own. He had been for 3 nights now since the day he woke up and found himself an armful too much duty.

Millions of thoughts ran in his head and after the fourth time he made a mistake when translating the newly delivered lore of Akukt he knew he had to stop lest he destroyed all the antiques that were sent to him.

Was it really so difficult now to make a choice?

He remembered there was a time when he would jump to save strangers at even the expense of his life. That was little Yugi, naïve, innocent, yet brave…stupidly so.

When had he become 'him'?

When was it? And why was it?

Was it the disillusion he found? Was it the hollowness that was left behind? Or was it a mix of everything?

Nothing lasted forever. Not even friendship. People liked to say forever because they hoped that if they said it enough, it would become true.

It took courage to hope again, and trust again once you'd been hurt too many times. Wounds healed and left behind were scars. It was only learned instinct to recoil from the pain of choosing once he was at a crossroad again.

Shadi must have known that it was futile to send an aimless savior to his mission when he somehow put Yugi back to his flat with whatever magic he commanded. He probably did the right thing too, for Yugi was not yet ready to make a jump…yet again.

And so, night after night, Yugi wondered the streets of Cairo, his head torn asunder and his heart lost. He saw many things on his walk, mundane things. There were times when he felt worn with nostalgia. These streets he had walked once, sometime ago, but not alone. De' javu reminded him of different images of the same street corner, the same bazaar market, yet all so different.

Shadi had said he had all the time he wanted yet Yugi knew he would have to come to a decision soon enough.

On one hand was a friend or maybe not so friend after all as Yugi only knew Yami, his mou hitori no boku, not Atem the pharaoh, and uncertainty as he didn't even know what he was supposed to do or if he even were the one wanted.

On the other hand was his life here, and a whole unsuspecting world. In retrospect, if he weren't the one forced to make a choice he would have laughed at the whole slapstick event.

It might seem like an easy choice to some but it certainly wasn't.

There was a lot left unsaid in his conversation with Shadi for the archeologist to mull over. But there was always a lot left unsaid about anything concerning shadow magic for that matter, it being magic and such always veiled behind mystery.

Yugi resolved to make up his mind but it all seemed futile, that was, until the seventh day. It was one particularly pot-mouth actor that found him in the cellar room of the museum on the afternoon.

"Ellooo!" Sa-ad yelled cheerfully as he catapulted from behind the door into the room, shocking Yugi in the process.

"Waa…how the hell did you get in here?" said a surprised Yugi, sitting cross-legged under a wooden table. The archeologist was leaning his back on a miniature mountain of books and old scrolls, a pen stuck over one of his ears and a notebook opened in his lap.

This part of the museum was not open to public view and more often than not, when a visitor ventured too far down, he'd have been politely ushered out by the guards. This section was allowed only to specialty staff, which till this day only consisted of Yugi and no one else.

"I bribed someone. He was convinced after a while." The actor crooned nonchalantly as if he was talking about the weather before he spun his eyes around the room.

"Woaaa…did somebody rob a bank? What's with all this gold?" He gestured wildly at the Millennium Items at various places in the room.

"Don't touch…they are dangerous"

"And what are you doing down there? Hiding from someone?" The actor squatted down on all four and poked at him with a finger. Yugi thought he would have used a stick if he had found one, if only to better irritate him.

"Did Khakunu let you off early again? Or did you get into a fight?" Said Khakunu was the director of the film Sa-ad was starring in and apparently in charge of keeping the actor in line as well which as it were wasn't so good so he let Sa-ad off once in while just to blow steam off.

"Oh, come now. I'm not that bad." 

Yugi gave him a 'are you serious?" look.

"Can I just say that I missed you and came to see you….princess mine!"

A book flew sharply at his head. Luckily for the actor, he ducked in time, laughing mockingly at Yugi.

"Hey, it's true. You look nothing like an archeologist. People could have mistaken you for some punk rock band member…that is if you didn't look so runty. What sort of a man that is…" Sa-ad made a gesture as if he was holding a pea in his 2 fingers, his eyes squinting as if to take a better look at it.

"…5 feet 1', 5 feet 2'?…man if I didn't know better I'd have thought that all Asians are pipsqueak like you"

It was as the actor said, not necessarily the 'pipsqueak' part, but definitely the small and geeky archeologist part. Mutou Yugi, at 20 and a renowned archeologist, looked nothing like his age and status. In fact, he looked more like a 17 year old highschooler with a very outrageous hairdo and a rebellious attitude. His clothing mainly consisted of low-waist baggy cream jeans, long-sleeve or half-sleeve black shirt, or even a tight crop top once in a while, only served to cement this image. These topping with the leather buckled collar, now made slightly lighter and more comfortable to endure long digging trip, more than often put a masochist image in people's head, or at the very least 'kinky'. Yugi still wore leather sometime as one most likely would not like to be in leather all day long in the heat and sand of Egypt.

His eyes with their rare color, a deep and clear amethyst, and their shape, expressively large with a hint of an upward slant in the corner were the icing on the cake. Sa-ad couldn't under stand for his life how the archeologist was still able to stay single and blissfully oblivious when women were falling left and right for his elfish and other-worldly charm…not that he was ever going to enlighten Yugi on this fact.

"Sa-ad Amre Diar…" The archeologist intoned in a formal voice, then…"Fuck off!"

The actor merely laughed at this.

"Why now….someone is not happy today."

And he settled down into a cross-legged sitting position in front of the archeologist, smiling soothingly. 

"So, what's been happening?"

"…nothing much, just a little extra reading…"

The actor raised an eye brow as he gestured to the room swarmed with so many books it was hard to see the wall.

"Little?" Then he picked up a nearby book and read its title 'First Aid 101: when you don't have even a ban-aid'. A handsome leather-bound next to it read 'From myth to reality: the new kingdom of ancient Egypt.'

"And straying as well I see." The actor put the book down to its brothers and sisters before zeroing his eyes on the archeologist. The look in them meant 'no escape'.

They used to have meetings every one or two days and the actor often crashed at Yugi's place. The last week wasn't the usual as Yugi was too lost in his world. He did not leave even a message. It was strange for such a thoughtful person.

"So…you planning to go somewhere?"

Instead of answering, the archeologist was staring at a pattern on the wall, mute. He kept doing that for 5 minutes and the actor's patience was running thin.

"Look! If you don't want to talk then say so. I'll just go. No big deal"

It was then that Yugi looked down at his tightly clenched fists, his nails leaving marks in the soft flesh.

They were close for such fast friends, but not that closed. But then again, what had Yugi to lose? Slowly, with a shuddering breath out, the archeologist spoke.

"Say that you screwed up your life a lot, and a lot of people had to pay for it. Say if you were given a chance to do everything again, no, to right all that wrong, would you take it?"

"What the heck?"

"Please!" The word was soft in tone but firm in message.

A visibly perplexed actor leaned back on his hands, his brows furrowed as he thought.

"That sounded like one of those cheesy lines from my sister's trash novel but to humor you." The actor paused and clicked at his tongue. "I would never even consider it. That's something that only happens in fairy tales. I mean, yeah, I did shit loads of wrong stuff but what the heck. If you don't fall and don't take the pain then when are you going to grow? I mean yeah, I'm shitty and all but the choices I made make me into the person I am today…even if they were wrong choices. I wouldn't trade anything for who I am, professor…Yugi."

That sounded like Sa-ad. Thought Yugi.

"…but what if the chance was not given but forced on you?"

"Then jus take it." He waved at Yugi's raised eye brow.

"Ey, I'm no hypocrite. Do I look like one of those ching-a-ling one hit wonder hotshot shitty rapper wannabe to you? I'll tell you something. I don't look like it now, but I wasn't raised in best neighborhood out there, professor. It's all bling bling for them, but with my neighbors, it's bling bang." He made a shooting gun gesture at his own head to emphasize.

"It wasn't all or nothing, get rich or die trying either. That's shitty B-rated Hollywood film material. In my neighborhood, when I'm given shit then I make the best out of them. There's no use for complaining, that doesn't solve the problem, does it? In the end of the day, no body is going to care enough to help you out if you keep on the whining brat attitude."

Yugi was silent for a while.

"…that was most unexpected."

"Eh, tell me something I don't know." Sa-ad laughed then looked down at his hands for a moment then back at Yugi. 

"I like you… Don't let yourself get hut, whatever it is."

For the shy Sa-ad that literally meant 'I care a lot about you. I hope that helped and whatever happens just call me.'

Before Yugi could properly answer the actor was already standing and looking at his wrist.

"Woaa, look at the time. I better get back before that ass of a director blew my head off. See ya!"

And he was out of the door faster than Yugi could blink. Left facing with an empty room, the archeologist could do nothing but laugh out loud.

'Shy!'

As his laughter ceased, the gold of the Millennium Items caught his eyes again. 'It's back to you and me now' It seemed to say. But Yugi was no longer daunted. The archeologist sat alone in the room, kept company only with his books for another hour, thinking wandering thoughts. 

When the clock struck five, he stood up, dusted off the dust on his pants and spoke to the air.

"No more running grandpa. No more running."

-o0o-

Writing a resignation letter was easy even if he had never done one before. However, packing was the obstacle. Yugi was truly perplexed at how to prepare for a life in ancient Egypt. After some self debate and agonizing decisions, he opted to pack mostly as he did for his expeditions. A medium half-man size blue backpack was called to arm along with some of his clothing, two of his usual sets of low waist slacks, belt and shirts, his leather set and a fur-trimmed hood jacket for the cold night.

He figured his clothing weren't going to last but if he was going then at the very least he was going to enjoy it.

After that were medical supplies and his multi-tool and navigational kit. Luckily, he was well stocked from his last trip to visit an African tribe deep in the desert and his kit consisted of the most advanced, downsized and light-weighted tools Kaiba corp. could offer, given that its owner was an obsessive freak who wouldn't let his sworn rival got hurt by someone else other than him due to inadequate equipments. In retrospect, maybe Kaiba was just too shy to tell Yugi he considered him a friend and wanted to help out.

Yugi decided to take a long a few pocket size books, mainly on first-aid and herbal medicine.

By the time he finished it was already half past seven and the street lights outside were up. His stomach grumbled in irritation. 'Cooking or eat out' Debated Yugi in his head.

'Eat out' He decided after a minute, feeling like pampering himself for one last time.

The walk from his place to his favorite restaurant wasn't a particularly long one. The restaurant was the only place within 50 mile that served Japanese food. It wasn't very good and a lot of the dishes didn't really taste like his homeland food but he found his nostalgia soothed by its oriental atmosphere. A mixed taste of teriyaki, udon and several other dishes stayed on his tongue as he paid for his extravagant meal. 

'Money! How am I going to get myself ancient Egyptian money?' Wondered Yugi as he looked at his own wallet. The archeologist had no idea what the future situation would be and from his experience after many expeditions he'd prefer to be as prepared as he could. The museum was out of the question as he'd have to pilfer from one of the exhibits. The money wouldn't be much where he was going but it would be a big blow on the museum now. It was too much trouble to be worth it.

Yugi walked the streets of a nearby noisy night bazaar, absentmindedly looking at the wares displayed as he thought of a solution. Several came to his mind: incense, essential oil, or spice. In the new kingdom of Egypt, the time of Atem's reign, these were among the luxury goods imported from foreign country and used only by the nobles and elites of their society. If he could bring some of that, it would be more than enough to ensure him a smooth beginning. Carefully, Yugi considered each option.

Incense was imported from some city in Greece in that time, so was essential oils, excluding aloe and a few rare local floras. He couldn't remember the exact date but knew that conflicts between Egypt and Greece had happened from time to time and wouldn't want to paint himself as the enemy to his future neighbors. That left spice. As far as he knew, Indian and Egypt never had much contact other than some sporadic trading that only happened between the richest of the rich in both country as they were too far apart, separated by several other warring countries and the Pacific ocean. Spice was at the time even as precious as gold, more even in some particular countries. It was added bonus that they were pretty compact, light-weighted and easily preserved. Some particular spices might even serve as secondary medicine if the situation warranted it.

His decision made for him, Yugi turned the corner and stopped at the resident spice bazaar. The shop was a pretty little thing, full to the brim with a thousand goods. Its mistress was an Indian lady named Tilo whom Yugi had known and befriended sometime before as both of them were stranded foreigners on this land of heat and sand. She was an immigrant from her homeland, a loner and a follower of a cult that was more than proficient in the use of spices but also prohibited her from ever wandering too far from her own shop. The spice mistress she was called by her many customers. 

Tilo greeted him from behind a shelf full of basket of dried chilly. She was reorganizing her ware. The shop closed at 9 and it was 15 minutes till then. She spoke English with an accent and good grammar.

"How can I be of help today, Yugi?" Carrying a bottle of grounded brown powder, she walked back to her counter. Her lips were stretched into a smile and the look she gave him was a knowing look.

"Not for cooking. For a trip, in't it?"

At times like this, Yugi often wondered if there was magic other than shadow magic. 

"Yep. A very long trip. I might need to use it for all sorts of things"

"Oh dear, it sounds like you'll need a whole pack, don't you?" Yugi only laughed and watched as Tilo bustled around the shop, picking up pieces and bottles. Silently he thought about who had tough the spice mistress her English. It was incredibly grandmother-like sometime. Must be an old lady. 

Tilo put a square box onto the desk surface. It looked old and somewhat ornate and when she opened it, Yugi could see many small compartments inside.

"For travel" She explained "It kept out the moist, is not heavy and good for preserving spices." Then she began putting the spices into the compartment, allspice, oregano and garlic, thyme and tarragon, capsicum and pepper, and many more types that Yugi could not name, one type for each compartment.

'Waa…this is going to leave a dent on my wallet' thought Yugi as he considered the quickly filling box. '…not that I'll have any use for it after this. I guess I'll count this as future investment then.'

It took Tilo nearly 30 minutes to collect and organize all the spices in small amount into the box. She totaled up the cost to a more than decent size number. As Yugi had predicted, he had nearly emptied his wallet for the all the spices and the box itself.

As he was about to leave, Tilo put a small book in his hands. It was brown and covered with what looked like goat skin and obviously well-cared for. The book did not have a title.

"It's a farewell gift" said the spice mistress. "It's a guide on how to care for spices. All that spices you bought. I think you're going to need it." Then she smiled "Good luck, wherever it is you're going" 

Yugi left after he gave her a heart-warming thank you. He kept on wandering the streets in a slow pace, feeling that haste was unneeded. 

The night of Cairo was beautiful. Now that he knew that it was the last time he was ever going to able to see it, it had become breathtaking. This city that had both taken from him and given him so much.

When Yugi finally got back at his place, it was well past eleven. The archeologist didn't waste time as stuff the box into his backpack and sped to the bathroom.

He took a long warm bath, taking his leisure time and only stepping out of the room when he was squeaky clean and smelling sharply of sandalwood. He dried his hair with a towel and began to dress, slowly and almost dreamily. He put on his boxer and jeans, then fastened a belt on. A comfy loose black shirt was slipped on over his head. Walking boots were chosen as they were more durable against the harsh condition of the desert. A jacket for the cold nights and hood against sunstroke.

Yugi walked out of his bedroom and slung on the backpack he had prepared, pausing for a moment before swiping his customized duty belt from his work table. It had been a gift from his grandfather when he first began his career as a 'professional tomb digger', the term coined by the old man himself. Yugi couldn't bear to leave it behind. It was only going to help him anyway.

The cellar room, despite its name, was well lit and smelling lightly of floor cleanser, the type that was often found in a hospital. It was deadly quiet, and with its new residents, the seven gold ancient items, almost spooky. 

Every step Yugi took as he walked to the center of the room felt like it was complimented with a beat of his heart.

'I'm really doing this' It felt unreal to the petite archeologist.

Then he was standing at the center. The eyes on the Millennium Items were staring at him. With a breath, he drew out.

"Shadi…"

Almost immediately, the room was succumbed into semi darkness. 

"Yes, my king." The ghost was standing right in front of him, a bit too close for the archeologist's liking but Yugi stayed silent.

"I see you've prepared yourself. May I then?" In sync with his question, all of the Millennium Items glowed in the dark.

'Doesn't work my ass! Shouldn't have been fooled by their appearance but oh hell, I've come to this already.'

"Alright"

Without warning, everything suddenly faded, Shadi faded, and the Millennium Items faded, and even their eyes faded and the room was no more. Yugi was left alone with darkness but it was not uncomfortable. It felt more like a lulling comfort, like a very big and soft pillow. A thought floated into his mind.

'At least this feels good.' 

He did not know how long he stayed in that darkness until a voice pierced it.

"What the fuck? What's going on here? YUGI!!"

The voice screamed but Yugi was too far gone to notice as a burning pain suddenly stabbed into him. It felt like hot coal was rubbed into his inside. God, he was being torn into two. It was unbearable.

"YUGI!!" The voice kept calling and Yugi screamed in return, choking on his own blood.

'Stop! Stop!' He wanted to say but the sound that came out of his mouth were terrified shrieks.

The shadow exploded and the pain stopped, just as sudden as they came. He felt light pushing through his eye lids and his exhausted body crashing down and a different voice.

"It is you!"

Then he was lost to the world and lost to the pair of red ruby eyes watching him in awe and amazement.

**End prologue. **

Critics are welcomed. Flames are…well…flamed.


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own anything

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything. I repeat. I do not own anything except for one hunky actor with a pot mouth and a few original characters that will be used to enrich the plot.

**Warning:** violence in this chapter, actions that infringe on human's right laws (not that they exist at that time but just in case), homosexuality (or sodomy in this society framework but lets not talk about that now). Also to a lot of young readers out there, this story contains extreme realism. It's not a sugary work in the park you're reading here and I'm not writing an Egyptian version of a fairy tale. There will be gory details and boring historical facts in a lot of chapter. People will die in the long run. Lots of them and not just the villain and his cronies either. Don't flame me because I'm truthful.

_**Chapter 1: Dead to the world**_

'_The Prince finally reached the room where the beautiful Princess lay fast asleep. For a long time he stood gazing at her face, so full of serenity, so peaceful, lovely and pure, and he felt spring to his heart that love he had always been searching for and never found. Overcome by emotion, he went close, lifted the girl's little white hand and gently kissed it . . .'_

La Belle au Bois dormant, aka Sleeping Beauty, Charles Perrault

-o0o-

It was a common misconception in the land of ancient Egypt, or as they called themselves Kemet, that the Pharaoh was the only power and held absolute sway on the whole country government. If that was the case then there would be no coup de' tat, no usurp of throne and no change of dynasty.

The Pharaohs then would rule as gods till the end of the world. But as all other things, the living god was only a convenient illusion, fabricated by men, and so was the power of the Pharaoh.

In reality, the administrative force of the new kingdom comprised of 3 factions that held power over the rest of the country: the nobles, the priests, and the Pharaoh.

The first faction, the nobles, were rich and most of the time somewhat educated men and their families, the scribes they were called. These people made up the majority of Kemet government, bureaucrats and overseer and controlled the rest of the population workforce, the peasants or artisans. Some of them, the most wealthy and powerful, even held parts in the army.

The second faction, the priests, were men that swore a life-long servitude to the gods they serve and took care of the temples. They too, commanded tremendous wealth from the monthly tributes offered to their gods and temples. But the one thing they had over the nobles was that they also controlled the people's belief and in a land that all the people's lives dwelled on the wish of the gods and the turn of one single river, this was a great power.

The third and last one, the Pharaoh was perhaps the most obvious of all and at the same time, the most unstable of all three. In the far past, many early Pharaohs were warlords who led a life of constant battles, conquering other lands as his army passed through them. But soon, the wiser Pharaohs realized that military prowess was a hard and costly thing to maintain as the men who were in the army could not participate in the production of the whole country and they still needed to be fed. The power of a whole army had become a burden that could easily destroy its own homeland.

A solution was sought and found as this same Pharaoh noticed how his people coveted to their gods. Soon afterward, orders were changed and the Pharaohs, in stead of commanding the brawn of his people, he now controlled their mind. The living god and high priest of all other gods was born.

Of course the army was still there, but they were now significantly smaller and only called on in time of need as their country geared itself towards development.

However, this change had come with dangerous weakness. The image of god was only a pretense and if the Pharaoh failed to maintain this image, anything in his physics that distinguished him from an average peasant, then he would be consumed by the rage of his own servants. He would become a sacrifice to the gods and a new pharaoh would then be chosen.

It was for this reason that pharaoh Atem was considered a rarity among his line. He did not look like a god was supposed to be.

He was small in statue and seemed terribly attached to his father the late pharaoh Akunumkanon. He looked nothing like his linage, the broad and powerful build of a line of fine warriors, once ruthless warlords. Then there was the time of his coronation at the tender age of 10.

Needless to say, the vision a 10 year old scrawny child was not what the people of Kemet had in mind for their divine ruler. If things were left as it was, he would have been dethroned and most likely killed even before his coronation day.

Pharaoh Atem was very lucky however as with his death, his father had left with him his most trusted advisor and servants, the six priests and holders of god's power. These priests had immediately capitalized on their roles and on one significant point of the child king's appearance, the color of his hair and eyes, gold and red, or as the Kemet people believed, the color of gods.

Atem was declared as blessed by the gods and as such, immune to the barbs and political attacks of his should-have-been usurpers at least for that time being.

But the priests could have done only so much and the rest was up to the child king himself. Thus, with the demand from a court that constantly looked for mistakes, weakness, and any points that hinted at his normality that could be exploited, and a life threatened with assassinations at any second, Atem had grown to survive and conquer them all.

In essence, he had grown to become a tyrant.

-o0o-

The throne room of the royal palace was a gigantic but closed room that smelled heavily of incense. There was only one large open arch door leading into the room. There was no window but a single tall sky well where sun rays entered and was reflected off many large bronze mirrors to provide light. This design was ordered specifically to keep out as many unwanted visitors as possible and those that came invited had only one place from which they can pass.

The throne it self was placed at one end of the room, facing the exit, on a raised dais. No one was allowed near within a hundred paces unless they were one of the Pharaoh's high priests and even those can only come as near as 15 paces, right at the dais.

The room now was full of people, reporting nomarchs from the southern and north eastern cities of Kemet, overseers, and a waiting ambassador delegation from Nubia. The six priests and a vizier stood in front of the raised dais, statuesque figures in pure white linen clothing.

The throne, however, was empty of its owner.

The priestess of the goddess Isis, renamed as the goddess herself turned her head lightly to the right and whispered to an old man.

"My lord, where is he?"

There was no question as to who 'he' here could be as there was only one person in the entire land of Kemet that could have all six priests waiting on him.

The Pharaoh wasn't a tardy man per se; however there had been odd changes lately in the palace.

The man, old and short with bulbous eyes, gave a tiny shook of his head.

It had begun very small one day when the Pharaoh all but disappeared on a small evening banquet that was scheduled by he himself. The priests had thought that he was just tired and didn't want to attend. The second time it was an opening of a temple to a minor god. It wasn't particularly serious but it was noticeable enough. Then came the daily morning meetings with the overseers to update on the status of the country and the many projects going on. The Pharaoh didn't miss them but he kept turning up some minutes late and leaving as soon as he covered the most important points, leaving the more minor ones to the priests.

At this point they were starting to worry. The first one who voiced questions was the vizier Shimon. He was the most appropriate one as he was the trusted advisor to not one but two generations of kings and had tutored the young pharaoh himself. If there was anyone that could chastise the pharaoh then it would be him.

The pharaoh did not answer any of his questions though he did stop his habit of coming late to the meetings and leaving them early.

The priests were calmed for a while but that was before they noticed something else. The pharaoh used to seek out his advisor to play games of senet but he had stopped all of a sudden. His visits to the other priests too had greatly decreased. Aside from the time when he was needed, in meetings, banquets and ceremonies, or overlooking a building project, their king was no where to be found.

Today was a meeting such as that except that it was held in the late afternoon. It was even a bit more important due to the Nubian ambassadors.

The priests stood fanning out as if to cover the empty thrones from the curious eyes of their subordinates. Isis was growing worried when a horn was blown, signaling the coming of the king.

Immediately all eyes turned to the door where a man was entering in slow steady strides, flanked by a squad of body guards, the Medjays, warriors raised to be loyal to the king since newborn. They kneeled as was custom demanded.

The pharaoh walked almost leisurely and there was a tiny bounce in his step not easily visible to the untrained eyes. As he reached his throne, he turned and addressed his court.

"I was needed for a few matters. You may rise." As he said this, the expression on his face was oddly calm, tranquil even.

This too was a change. Noted Isis.

When she was born, it was to her mother, a priestess herself, thus Isis had begun her religious training at her mother's feet. When she was of 14 Nile tides, Isis had replaced her mother as a holder of the Millennium Tauk. It was for this reason that she had known the pharaoh since he was young.

The pharaoh used to walk with a rigid and fast stride that made him look angry. His face was usually set in a frozen expression, his eyes sharp but wary and he was never truly calm even if he might look it. He reminded Isis of a sharp sword, always ready to let blood.

Isis supposed she should be feeling happy for her lord as he seemed to be changing for the better but it was just so very unnerving that it was hard for her to accept it right away without having the slightest hint of the reason why.

The pharaoh took his seat and the meeting proceeded as usual. The Nubian delegates delivered their annual tribute under the supervision of their viceroy, the Egyptian ruler of Nubia. The overseer gave their reports as the delegates left and discussed the problems that had come up with the project of a new temple.

Finally, when the meeting was near its end and the room mostly empty except for the most important and highest ranking officers, an issue was brought up.

"And the Khentis?" It was the pharaoh himself that asked this question, his voice crisp with a hint of casualness, inclining his head to his general, the nomarch of the southern cities. The Khenti was the name of a large and old family that dated back even before the current pharaoh's linage began. True to their name, the leaders, the family had been strong in both politics and military. Over time, they had proved to be a problem.

"Taken care of, my liege." The nomarch bowed down as he said this and presented to the king a burned insignia in his hand. The pharaoh nodded and turned to another of his servants.

Things were going smoothly.

As the meeting concluded, the priests with the exception of the newly elected Set crowded in one place and watch their king left in hurry. They waited until they were left alone in the room, five priests and an old vizier.

"Has there been anything?" Asked Mahaad.

"Nothing much. He still hasn't come to me since and as I heard…not even the inner palace." The inner palace was a discrete word for the pharaoh's harem. It was not of much use until he had hit puberty and even then, seemed barely there in his mind at all.

"He had frequented the healers however." Said Shimon.

"Healers?"

"He had called on some of them to ask for something. They were particularly tight-lipped about what it was."

"He doesn't look ill…does he?" Mahaad turned his head sideway s if asking for confirmation from his partners.

"The slaves?"

"All rumors. They are not easily certified…" Shada paused as he considered his next words "…though some were quite ridiculous. They said he was having an affair with a slave…"

They all knew that could not be true. A slave most definitely would not command such attention from him. And even if there were one, the pharaoh had no need to hide her from his priests.

"Do we even know where he go to?" Shada frowned at this, his eyes down cast as if he was trying to remember something.

"We might… it's only rumors but some of the slaves had seen the pharaoh at the West Wing Gazebo."

The group lapsed into silence as none of them had anymore to say. What they all had, however, was a growing sense of worry. There was clearly something going on with their king and they, his supposedly most trusted advisors, had no idea what it was. The many factions in the court most likely had already taken notice of this, and even if they didn't, then they soon would if this kept up.

"Hmm…this bears a need for investigation." It was the priest Akhnadin that said the thought that loomed in their minds.

What the priest didn't know however was that there was already an investigation going on, ordered by none of them and none of the court members.

It was carried out by a slave named Djal.

-o0o-

The West Wing Gazebo wasn't really a gazebo per se. It was more a miniature island fortress, surrounded by the Nile on one side and the other side brick wall, only connected to the main palace by a long marble pave way over the water body. The place was built long ago when the architects had first planned out the palace complex with the first pharaoh of the line and was supposed to be a royal shrine dedicated to the Nile god Sobek, protector of the pharaohs. However, when the bigger and more extravagant temples came along, the place had fallen out of use and had been vacant since then.

It was only some weeks ago that guards were stationed outside the entrance into the gazebo and entry was forbidden to all. Strangely enough, no one voiced any question about this.

Djal walked in a slow steady pace towards the dome-like gate of the West Wing Gazebo where four guards were stationed, trying his best to look as insignificant as possible. It was hard to see in the dark of the night but the guard took one look at the red sash wrapped around his waste and cleared off the way. The slave slunk in between them and into the open gate, looking like a child among titans of men. These were the best of guards, the king's hand-chosen ones.

It was only when the door was shut behind him with a moaning creak that Djal allowed himself to let out a breath. But it was not yet time to feel relief.

It was a nightmare trying to get into this place. Scratch that, it was a nightmare trying to find out about this place. The slave thought.

But Djal was no ordinary slave, not in the palace at least. Of course he was not the head slave, if he were then he wouldn't be here in the first place. In fact, just a few years ago, he wasn't even a slave at all. He was the son of a noble, enrolled in a scribe school and promised a bright future.

Unfortunately, it was not to be as Djal's father and his family had fallen out of favor in the court, politics and such, and went along with that was the family fortune. His father had had no other choice but to sell off his children to pay off debts and the little noble boy soon turned slave in the palace.

It wasn't too bad. He was fed and he had a place to stay and with the many contacts his father once had still inside, the slave often found himself slightly more privileged than his brethrens. A bread more than others in meals, beer in stead of cold water, a better place to sleep, easier works to do.

But still it wasn't easy being a slave. Competition was hard among hundreds others and Djal was male, which meant he had next to no chance of being miraculously whisked off to join the harem, which had been the dream of most female slaves, the young ones.

The first two years in the palace, Djal had barely scraped by, still shocked by the chance and unfamiliar with the situation. It was on the third one, when the slave had grown somewhat that he had hit the right door, to turn an informant.

The slave network was often the largest and most overlooked information source. Slaves were everywhere in the palace, even the king's bedroom as the place still needed cleaning. They handled all of the manual work in the palace and were always overlooked. Nearly all of the officers never even glanced at them and guards generally left them alone as they had nothing to bully for unless they violated some rules. They saw things going on in the palace and heard quite a lot too. If there was a noble son or daughter of age and waiting to be wed, they would know it. If there were new decrees and some noble families about to fall from grace, they would know it. If they pharaoh so much as cough, they would know it too, or at least the slaves who attended to him would.

Theirs was possibly the largest grapevines of Egypt and contained the most valuable information. But on the other hand, what little facts were known by them was usually isolated only to a few single slaves and diluted by a sea of rumors. Obviously they needed some sort of controller, a navigator of all the rumors going on, which was where Djal came in. The rest were either resigned, stupid, or scared.

It had started with small things at first and limited to the place where Djal was assigned, the trade chambers. News on trade route and changes of goods flow sold like hot cakes to many scribes out to make a fortune and Djal could only welcome the more favors were bestowed on him. But gradually, that was not enough for the slave and Djal began 'wandering'.

There were a thousand things going on at once in the great house of the pharaoh and with the heavily divided court came an endless need for the littlest detail of the underground battle.

The first time he made a big strike was when there was a fall-out in the palace. Djal had overheard a conversation between two priests and had sold the news to one noble family who quickly fled the country to avoid the 'clearing' of the pharaoh. The rewards had come late and he had needed to slit the throat of one nosy scribe who had stumbled on his dealing but it was well worth it.

The second time went smoother and he had only needed to make a few bribes. Nothing the handful of bronze coins he was rewarded with could not handle. By the time he made his third hit, Djal had learned quite a deal of the tricks of the trade.

Kill any one who knew too much, or bribe them. And anything on the pharaoh was weighted in gold.

Which was why he was here now, in this god forsaken place, at the middle of the night, impersonating another slave.

Djal carefully took in his surrounding first before placing tentative steps on the white marble. The river was lapping in gentle waves at the pavement but the slave knew better than to trust its deceptively peaceful appearance.

It was tradition to harbor live crocodiles in any temple to Sobek and this place was no different other than the fact that it must have even more than other temples as it was connected to the Nile itself.

There's one. Exclaimed the slave in his head as he spied a spot in the dark water where bubbles were popping. It was their prime time at night, when they were most active. He'd have to be extra careful and fast then.

On the side though, this detail just confirmed whatever doubts he had in mind before coming to this place. Whatever was hidden here was extremely important, so much that it was put where to where a god once was and protected by the fiercest men and creatures Kemet had ever known. It was going to be worth all this pain.

Djal had luckily stumbled on this treasure trove, not the odd habit of the king though, that was easily provided by the multiple talkative slaves that attended to him. As he still kept his 'wandering' habit when he had the free time and this palace was a maze in its own right, he had wandered right to the gate of the gazebo, or as he called it now, the Death Gate.

It was with both dread and excitement that he watched a different slave approached the gate some time ago only to be speared several times through his head and abdomen before he was even three steps near the gate. The guards had not asked once nor did they appear to care, only acted in a deadly accordance between the four of them. The corpse had lay there for sometime before one of their guards had had enough with its smell and proceeded to kick it off into the river. The crocodiles had taken care of the rest.

'The fool' He thought as the corpse rolled down the incline and into the river, leaving a bloody trail behind him which was cleaned off came afternoon by a slave wearing a red sash. 'He must be an amateur, a new one. Well served, and one less competitor for me.'

The same thing repeated two days later, but in stead of a slave, it was a small boy, a palace child no doubt with the fine linen he wore, playing with his straw ball and getting too close. Again, no question was raised. No crying mother or demanding father, just a frightening silence.

Despite the two deaths and the obvious risk however, Djal's excitement had skyrocketed and had only increased since then as one day, when he was hiding in a barrel, watching the gate, it was the Pharaoh himself that came and entered.

Anything on the pharaoh was gold and at this caliber it might be as heavy as the pharaoh himself. Whatever secret in there could be the biggest hit he had ever made. By Anubis, it might just be enough for Djal to get off this place once and for all.

The slave half ran half walked on the pavement, always careful to remain in the middle of it and being extra quiet. He wouldn't want to alert the guards still outside or the crocodiles just a few feet way from him of anything weird going on now, would he?

Finally, he reached the end of the pavement and the real 'gazebo' itself. It was a small building compared to other quarters he had seen in the palace but it seemed very refine with the ornate white marble it was made off and its own location, on top of a mound overlooking the Nile.

It had one thing that he had rarely seen though, windows, large ones where light and soothing breeze came through, creating a comfortable and serene atmosphere inside the gazebo itself in contrast with the rest of its dangerous surrounding. This gazebo was, unlike many other quarters, the slave decided, designed for comfort.

The gazebo door was a wooden one, a luxury considering whatever wood in Kemet had to be imported from the far land of Tyres, and decorated with the blessing symbols of gods. Djal laid his hand tentatively on the symbol of Sobek, the crocodile-headed god. If he had laid it anywhere else or tried to get in through one of the large windows, he would have been killed immediately. A curse, said the slave who took care of this room, laid by the pharaoh himself.

Djal had spent more than 2 weeks trying to find him and had very nearly given up as he thought it wasn't worth all the trouble. The slave was an old in-born with a black pinched face, the child of many generations of slaves inside the palace who had been born from and into a life of absolute servitude. He was barely sighted at the slave quarter as he didn't sleep there. It was only luck that Djal found him when the other slave was shoving down his meal as fast as possible so that he could return to the gazebo.

"Where are you going?" Djal had asked but the other slave shook his head vigorously and quickly went away before Djal could have stopped him.

"Come, brother, take your time and join me. Look what I have for you." The second time the informant had brought beer along and waved it to the other. It wasn't such a luxurious bait to some but slaves generally weren't allowed beer.

The gazebo slave had cast furtive glances at the bottle in his hand before pulling him to a corner and snatched the prize. He drank like a man about to die of thirst.

"I don't see you around here that much. Do you even sleep here?" He shook his head.

"Where do you sleep then?" Another shook and the old slave continued to gulp down the beer. Hiding his exasperated frown, Djal gave another try, mindful to make it sound like a normal conversation and not an interrogation.

"Do you work for any of the priests? I sometime run errands for them, uptight people those bunches."

He was rewarded with a throaty and choked sound that could have been a laugh but other than that, nothing else.

"Laughing aren't you? What's yours like then? old? Or maybe that new one, the priest of Set, dreadfully young isn't he?"

By that time the other slave seemed to have been satisfied enough and had put the bottle down on one side. The sloshing inside informed him that there were still some left. The slave shook his head then waved his hand.

"Are you going to talk?" Djal frowned at the other.

At this question, he shook his head again, even more vigorous than before, then pointed to his open mouth. It was then that Djal figured what was wrong with the whole conversation.

The old slave had no tongue.

There was no sound when the sign of Sobek trembled and sunk into the wood. Djal could have sworn that he felt a chill float through his bone as the door opened on its own.

Precious. The gazebo slave pointed a finger at the gaudy jewels of an overseer.

Beautiful. A passing palace lady, most likely from the inner quarters.

The third word posed a challenge as there was nothing in sight that the gazebo slave could use to communicate. Frustration was clear on his face as the slave pinched his face, further enhancing the harsh lines on it. It was only when he spotted the bush of canary grass in a pond nearby that the problem was solved. The canary grass was a soft and slightly taller type of reed with tiny thorns on its long leaves. It didn't cover the word in its true sense but the message was delivered none the less when the gazebo slave pressed his finger along the side of the thorny plant, leaving a tiny red trail in his dark flesh.

Dangerous.

-o0o-

The room inside the gazebo was neither big nor small, but it was warm and well-lit, and bore a fragranced smell of cedar from an incense burner no doubt. The room was split into two sections by panes made of a type of green wood that Djal had never seen before. The panes drew a loop in the middle of the room. The paintings on the wall were old remnants of the once-shrine to a god.

As he stepped into the outer section, the slave turned informant took on his surrounding. On one side of the room, in a dark corner was an empty mat, probably the sleeping place of the gazebo slave.

'Who now sleeps elsewhere.' Thought the informant.

On the other side were two tables, one of which had towels, a stone basin with what looked like crushed herbs inside, a copper tub filled with water, various clay bottles on it, and a neat pile of folded rags underneath. Those were probably used to keep this room clean.

It was the other table that caught Djal's attention however, as on it were many strange items the slave couldn't identify and what looked like folded clothes. He approached the said table curiously and picked up a large blue bundle with grey lines on it. It was soft and lumpy and felt like it contained something else inside. It was obviously expensive as well, dyed in such a bright color. The next thing he picked up was a black loop with small circles on it. As the slave raised it his eye level, the light from the oil lamp reflected off the strange circles.

'Iron' the slave exclaimed. The metal that was even more precious than gold. In all his life, he had only seen it once when he worked in the trade chamber. It was a gift from a small vassal country south of Hittite in the form of a sword. The pharaoh now had it with him all the time. Needless to say he was pleased with the vassal country.

He was very tempted to take the loop with him but it was too big to be hidden in his wrap and finding buyers for iron would be hard. It would only bring him trouble then. Besides, if something like this was left outside, then the thing inside should be a thousand times more valuable.

Egged on by this thought, Djal put the loop down on the table and crept toward the inner chamber. There was no door from between the two sections of the room, only a clear space where the panes didn't cover. Cautiously, the informant peeked inside and immediately pulled back as fast as he could.

'Fucking Ra!' He cursed vehemently and clutched at his chest. There was a person inside, or rather there was a bed covered by a thin white veil and a dark lump in the shape of a lying person.

'Precious in deed! All that work and it was for a whore!'

His heart was hammering wildly in side his chest and Djal was about to leave when a thought pulled him back. Was he going to leave empty-handed? So much time and effort was poured into this thing, and Djal had to leave without a reward? The slave frowned.

He was already inside anyway, the least he could do was scavenged whatever he could. The little wench was probably asleep anyway.

Djal turned and slowly took a better look at the inner chamber.

The bed was the first thing that caught his eyes with its breezy white veil drooping from down from the ceiling. A chair and a bedside table with an incense burner were next to it.

Feeling braver than usual, partly because of his disappointment, Djal inched toward the bed. With one hand he parted the veil; the other hand felt the napes of his wrap for the powder sack he had prepared before hand, sleeping powder, stolen from the chest of a botanist in the healer quarter.

Surprisingly, the person on the bed was not a ravaging beauty as the informant had expected. In fact, it wasn't even a woman. Lying on the bed and covered with thick fur blanket was a boy. A boy who could have been mistaken for the pharaoh if it weren't for his incredibly pale skin.

'What is this?' Djal thought quizzically as he eyed the sleeping boy. Did the pharaoh have a brother that no one knew of? A twin, perhaps. But what was he doing here? And why didn't any body else know about him? Why did the pharaoh hide him in the first place? Was he ill? Or maybe even dead? The boy looked healthy enough though, aside from the color of his skin. Was it some sort of power play? Brothers vying for the same throne maybe? Did the pharaoh hide him here because he couldn't bear to kill his own brother?

The informant never had the time to find answers for his questions when a sound startled him out of his thoughts. It was the sound of footstep on stone. Somebody was coming in.

'Damn it!' The informant looked frantically around for a place to hide. The footsteps were drawing nearer and louder by the seconds. Djal ran to the other side of the bed and there he found a large trunk. Quickly he opened it and slipped inside as quiet as possible. The lid of the trunk closed down just as he heard the sound of the door opening and footstep was in the room.

Djal calmed his beating heart and peeked out. Through the crack between the lids, in the warm light of the lamp stood the pharaoh himself.

'Anubis! He came? At this time of the night?' The informant cursed his luck and watched the child king walk to the bed with the copper tub he had seen before. It was still sloshing with water.

"Hello." The pharaoh spoke and for a moment Djal thought he had been discovered, but it was not him the pharaoh was speaking to. He was speaking to the sleeping boy.

The pharaoh drew the chair nearer to the bed and sat down on it before setting the copper tub on the bedside table. A clean towel was pulled out from a drawer and laid on the king's lap. He parted the covering veil and smiled down at the boy. In all the years Djal was imprisoned in this palace, he had never seen nor heard of the king's smile before.

"I couldn't sleep."

And before the astonished eyes of the informant, the lord of Kemet dipped the towel into the tub and with as much gentleness as he could muster, proceeded to bath the sleeping boy.

'Manual work?' Thought the hiding slave. And the way he held his hands over the nimble body, as if the boy would break if he applied the tiniest pressure.

It was unheard of. No. It was not possible. The pharaoh was never known to be gentle nor was he said to be a benevolent man. This person, the sleeper, must be extremely important.

The pharaoh bathed the youth slowly, removing pieces of clothes as he went without a care that he might be wasting time when he should be resting in stead, and he did this while speaking in a slow and tender voice to the boy.

It was a scarily lively one-sided conversation.

Time passed and with every minutes of it Djal was more convinced of the sleeping boy's high status. The way the pharaoh spoke to him was full of affection but it was not the type that one usually bestowed on his brother.

When he was young and was still a noble boy, a harper had sung a story of a twin couple to him. In the land of Kemet, people rarely had twins. It would have been unheard of if not for the myths that surrounded them. There were many versions of it but the most popular one said that these rare twins were once lovers promised to each other in heaven. And there was another one in which they were the earthly avatars of the twin god and goddess Nut and Geb, the parents of all the high gods.

Was this boy, as the myths had said, the king's equal and opposite then? Were these really true? The slave questioned then shook his head. True or not, Djal knew plenty of nobles that would love to know of this little tidbit fact. This thing, he realized, was going to set him free.

Wrapped in his own thoughts, the informant never noticed the silence that had settled over the room until a clacking sound of metal against stone broke his concentration and forced him to turn his focus back to the pair outside. It seemed that the king had finished his task and had set the copper tub on the floor. He looked down at his charge in silent.

'What is he doing?' The slave shifted inside the trunk, already feeling his feet going numb. Whatever the pharaoh wanted to do, he hoped he'd do it fast.

The pharaoh leaned down and laid a hand over the sleeping boy's forehead, wiping a strand of golden hair aside.

"It's been a month." He started suddenly with a heavy breath.

"Why are you still asleep? I've been waiting for you for so long."

And then he fell into silence again, but this time it was much shorter.

"My healers can do nothing. No matter what… Perhaps other healers may know …"

Then he turned to the bedside table and closed the lid on the incense burner down. He stopped for a single moment then slowly he stood up and pulled the veil back together. His movements were strangely rigid but it was only for a moment.

With that done, the pharaoh turned and left the room, taking the tub and with him.

Djal waited until his footsteps were far away then stopped altogether and then even longer. Only when the informant was sure that the pharaoh had left the vicinity of the gazebo did he begin to climb out of the trunk.

He moved promptly and did not take anything with him, happy and satisfied that he had uncovered something of such importance. Djal passed the green panes and outside room without a noise, casting a fleeting glance at the empty bed mat as he did so.

'Thank you my friend. You've been night helpful.'

The door swung open and the slave walked out, barely unable to hide his excitement in his steps. Unfortunately for him, he did not walk even three feet away from the door when a hand, cold and hard as steel, closed around his neck.

'Whaa??' The slave choked and flailed at the offending arm. It was then that caught sight of his attacker. It was the pharaoh. His eyes were freezing flame in the dark and his face seemed carved out of stone. His tender image just minutes ago at the bedside of the sleeper had all but evaporated. Slowly, he hissed through gritted teeth.

"You stunk of fish."

The pharaoh dragged him to the gate and as he did this, the slave cried weakly.

'This could not be happening!! I've never been caught before. How did he…?'

"My lord! Please…I'm not…" But the fist around his neck only tightened, cutting of his sentence and his air. The king shouted angrily.

"Did you think me a fool? Guards!"

The Medjays took only seconds to swarm to their pharaoh. As they stopped into a straight line before their king the uncovered informant was thrown to them haphazardly. The king threw a murderous look at Djal then issued his order, his voice was stone cold.

"Get his tongue." And the guard obeyed, pulling a knife out with one practiced stroke.

Djal's inside froze at this. Immediately, he thought of the gazebo slave with his hollow mouth.

"Please, please! My lord, have mercy." He squirmed in the hold of the guards, too small and weak to do anything else against the titans. The pharaoh hesitated and he appeared to be thinking. Djal's hope flared for one single second.

"Wait" He said in a soft voice, a vicious glee in his eyes. "I'll do it."

And with this, he pulled a glinting sword from his belt, the tribute from the vassal country. One guard held Djal's head but the king didn't wait for the other guard's assistance. He had lunged in and grabbed at the slave's face, his nails digging into the slave's cheek. Djal's tongue was forced out of his mouth as the pharaoh positioned his sword over it. He pulled a slow and precise stroke and the pain seared hotly into Djal's brain. Blood dripped down on the pharaoh's hand, his white tunic and the ground but the pharaoh seemed to take no notice of this. He was enjoying every moment of the slave's agony.

Djal choked at the coppery tang of his own blood in his mouth. He could no longer taste it but the stench that flooded into his nostril through his mouth was nauseous. The next minute a small piece of flesh fell to the ground with a wet slap.

But the pharaoh was not yet finished. He crushed his fingers into the slave's jaw and forced his face up.

"Count yourself lucky….that I didn't take your eyes too." He pulled back swiftly as if disgusted before taking out a small piece of linen and wiped the blood off his sword.

"Throw him out." The guards promptly pulled the writhing slave away from the gazebo. Djal was in too much pain to realize any of this. In his head, there was only one thoughts repeating over and over again.

'You'll regret this pharaoh. You'll regret this.'

-o0o-

"Is this true?" The man asked in an old and cultured voice, his face hidden by the cloak he wore. His assistant nodded affirmative and gesture for the slave to come forward.

The cloaked man bended down and place one gnarled hand under the slave's chin and pulled his face up for a better look. The slave couldn't see anything but an inky blackness in the depth of the cloak. No ordinary cloak would do that. This man was hidden by magic. Thought the slave.

"He's a mere child." With that, he pulled his hand back none too gently, turned and walked back to his table where various papyrus scrolls, an inkwell and a reed brush were laid out. He called the slave with a flick of his hand.

"Come! Tell me your story."

The slave came and picked up the brush. Bending down as there were no chair around, he scrawled symbols on the papyrus.

'The common script' Thought the old man 'and with a terrible handwriting too. But it will suffice.' It was as the old man thought; the ink strokes were weak and rickety on the papyrus and the slave paused many time to recall one particular word after another. This boy was once taught how to write but it was a long time ago and was not of much use to him.

Finally when the slave was finished, he presented the papyrus to the cloaked old man on two hands and his head bowed low. It didn't take long for the cloaked man to read through though he winced many times at the poorly drawn figures.

After a few minutes, the cloaked man put the papyrus down and fell into silence. The slave stole a nervous glance at the old man. 'Why is he so quiet?' He soon received his answer as the man turned to him once again.

"Is this true?" It was the same question as before but this time it was spoken in a much lower and focused manner.

The slave gulped and nodded his head rigorously.

"Sire, he was not known to be a liar." The assistant offered to his master. "…and if he were we could easily have that taken care of, couldn't we?" The slave did nothing to indicate that he had heard that sentence, only looking down at his feet, appearing demure and obedient.

"Very well." Said the man finally as if giving a verdict. "Bring him out and give him what he wants."

When the room was bare of the slave and there were only two inside, the assistant turned to his master and asked.

"What shall we do with this?"

The old man did not answer him right away but turned and picked up a horn from a nearby shelve.

"Have you ever seen a sacrifice before?" His assistant frowned at the question but answered anyway.

"Yes. But not by you." Which was an oddity in its own right given the man statue.

"Because I found them not worthy for the reward I asked. Peasants do not make such flattering offerings to the gods." He fingered the horn slowly.

"Only the best of offerings can grant me what I want. Do you know what is it the gods want most?"

His subordinate shook his head.

"Why. Another god of course. But we can't touch the living god now can we?" The assistant got the impression that the old man was smiling behind his cloak from the tone of his voice.

"He is such a tough little lamp. And without him too many troubles will arise. Those pesky courtiers. It is counter productive. But now what do we have here? The equal of a god. My, that shall make the best of offerings, shan't it? " And he presented the horn to his assistant. It was made of ivory, lined with gold and carved with a sacred symbol, the symbol of the reaper.

"Be gone. And don't come back without my prize."

-o0o-

It was one cool evening that Shimon found himself once again in a familiar scene, surrounded with his brethrens, the other priests and priestess, playing a fine game of Senet with the pharaoh. It had been more than a month since their last game and Shimon was enjoying it greatly.

"My liege, you've not become one bit rusty." Commented the vizier as he surveyed the board. The pharaoh played strong but risky moves that required plenty of luck to pull off sometime. That wasn't to say that the pharaoh wasn't a good strategist. In fact, many times Shimon had been defeated fair and square by the monarch. On the other hand though, the king was still young and came with it was the abandonment of youth. The passion of youth some would say.

Standing over the pair in the imperial garden were two priests, Mahaad and Shada, and the priestess Isis. They too were watching the game closely, fascinated with the battle on the board and happy that their lord was back at least somewhat.

The pharaoh did not answer, opting to make his next move in stead.

"Hmm…that was quite the move. I dare say you must have improved." Shimon frowned. The last move had just forced him into a corner and he would have a rather hard time trying to break off this siege.

"I might." Said the pharaoh neutrally. "Say, Mahaad. How has your research come along?" He asked off-handedly. Mahaad aside of his priest duty also commanded over research on magic.

"It is going on nicely, my lord, despite some problems we've had in the beginning then nothing else."

"Do you know of any curse?"

"Curse, my lord?" The priest was clearly puzzled.

"Yes, curse. Is there a curse to put a person into a sleep, a very long one." Said the pharaoh as he made another move with one hand. His other hand traced along the ridge of the Millennium Pyramid hanging from his neck.

The priest paused and tried to recall from his extensive memory on magic if there was such a curse.

"If there were then I must not know of it." He replied humbly. "There is one sealing curse though."

The other three in the garden, even though still appeared to be watching the Senet board was interested in the conversation going on between the pharaoh and Mahaad.

"Is that so? And what about healing ones?"

"Not physically my lord. Magical healing spells only affect the spiritual side of a person. They can not heal flesh wounds. "

Mahaad waited for another question but there was none as the pharaoh had turned his full attention back to the board. The vizier had made a rather devilish move on the right corner, forcing the pharaoh to move back. He tossed a knucklebone to determine the length of his move.

Lady luck seemed to have favored the king once again and the game moved to the end stage. Shimon had put a fight but after that throw, all was finished within a few moves.

"That was a good game." The vizier huffed, smiling good-naturely.

"It was." Agreed the king then he turned business like. "I have one thing to ask of you."

This sentence had the attention of all four of his servants.

"I want an announcement to be made, city wide by tomorrow, nation wide within a week time."

The vizier was astonished at this. Long range communication in Kemet wasn't a thing of joke. It required time and resources, the wider the range the more expensive, more so if they were to be made with haste. Normally, only the richest of noble or the government can utilize this tool.

What the king was asking was on par with a military enlisting in time of war.

Judging from their shocked expression, this must also be the same thought in the other priests and priestess's heads.

"My liege?"

But there was no hint of such a thing happening aside from some unrest in the southern cities, nor did Shimon receive any declaration of war from the neighboring countries. The kingdom wasn't under any threat that he knew of. What then could warrant such a thing?

The king gave no indication that he acknowledged the priest's worry. He didn't even look at Shimon as he collected the pawns from the Senet board and arranged them neatly back into slots in their box.

"I want every known healer in the kingdom..." he paused and consider for a while "…aside from the ones under full-time duty to their cities to be gathered in the capital."

He turned to a shocked Shada as he said the second part.

"Prepare lodging and security for them as well as tighten palace control, especially their quarter. I don't want any assassins under cover to be let in."

Isis was the next one addressed by the pharaoh.

"Also, send out invitations to well-known healers outside the country. Especially Greece and Magadha. I've heard that they have good healers."

"Magadha? The Vedic country?" Isis exclaimed. "My liege, it would take years for them to get here."

Much to her surprise, the pharaoh was unfazed.

"Time is not a problem."

"My lord, you are unwell?"

"No need to worry, Shimon. It is not I who requires their attention. But…"

Shimon would never know what the pharaoh was going to say as all of a sudden the Millennium Pyramid flared and emitted a terrible shrieking sound, over throwing all of them.

"What?" The pharaoh stood abruptly, toppling the table and causing the Senet board to fall down. Its pieces made of precious stones shattered on the hard floor but its owner was hardly paying attention.

The king's eyes widened as he realized what this meant. An anguish sound left his lips.

"No…"

Before any of his attendants could say anything, the king had immediately turned from the table and ran out of the garden.

"Pharaoh!" Shimon cried out in shock, his old and short body unable to follow his master right away. His three other companions did not waste any time and had taken off after their king right away with Isis a short distance behind the two men.

They were running at full sprint but still could not catch up to their king. The pharaoh was running as if his life depended on it, pushing any body on his way aside.

"Out! Get out of my way!" He shouted as he ran toward a busy intersection and as impossible as it was sped up even more. His voice was ferociously hoarse but there was something that sounded almost like desperate dread in it. Soon after that the pharaoh was but a white spec in the priest's vision. They could barely keep up with him at this rate and Isis had already fallen far behind.

It was then that Shada realized where they were heading to. The West Wing of the palace. There was only place he could think of. The gazebo.

True to the priest's thought, minutes later Shada and Mahaad was facing the gate of the gazebo now open widely and unguarded.

A scream rising from inside prompted the priests to keep running despite the protest of their bodies and the burning ache that gnawing at their legs.

The wooden appeared first to them. It was melted off into ugly black coal. There were traces of shadow magic in the air.

"Traps. Ripped off." Mahaad huffed, out of breath and nearly tripping over the headless corpse off a guard.

They quickly got inside the gazebo to avoid the coming crocodiles, attracted by the smell of blood and freely available food.

The scream was even louder here. The pain and anger in it was more than palpable. It was the voice of the pharaoh. He was standing over an empty bed with torn veil. A fur blanket was strewn over the floor.

"NO! No!" The pharaoh screamed and screamed.

The white linen was painted a deep red color.

**End chapter **

Okay, you're probably wondering how I got this one out so fast. I didn't plan on writing it so soon but luckily I'm on a holiday…or rather was as next week college will start again. Which means that the next chapter won't come out so fast.

I also got a surprise today. A reviewer messaged my phone. Wow I never thought anyone would actually call me from . But it was nice.

A few side notes on the 'Metal is more precious than gold' and 'the country Magadha'. Magadha is the ancient version of India. In reality they didn't have a fixed empire until 800 BC but well..you know fanfiction. On the metal thing, it is true. In that period, the New Kingdom, iron (not wrought iron) was precious because not many countries know how to forge them whereas gold was readily available in nature. Nowadays it is cheaper than gold because we know how to smelt it. Atem's sword is not just iron though, it is steel and extremely rare in that period.

Also, if you don't know, the reaper on the horn is 'Reaper of the Card'. If you play Yugioh: Power of Chaos then I think you'll know this particular card. It has a flip effect to destroy one trap card on the field.

To the reviewer FifthdayofMay: because you didn't sign your review so I couldn't just reply to you. But I really agreed with you on the 'shaky' part. How do I say this, when I plotted this fic, I envisioned it in images, not words. So when I write it then, sometime it's hard to convey everything down and English being not my mother tongue makes it even harder for me. Though I'll try to improve my self.

So people, I hope you all enjoyed that and awaited my next update (in 2, 3 weeks or so hopefully, it all depends on how many assignments I get from school and work so lets all cross our fingers and hope).

This is Sythe, signing off.


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that comes from the series Yugioh

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything that comes from the series Yugioh. Though I do own the plot of this story which is the main component of the hundreds of headaches I've been subjected to so far.

**Warning:** homosexuality (or sodomy if you want to but I don't prefer that word. It reminds me too much of my bible…which is a pain sometime). Extreme realism (as in you'll be seeing the application of economics, political science, religious-centered anthropology and so on…but I'll try not to turn this into a college essay.) Of course there are many details that will not be adapted if they do not help the plot and only serve to jumble everything up.

_**Chapter 2: A God is born**_

_You may worship no other god than me. You shall not make yourselves any idols: any images resembling animals, birds, or fish. You must never bow to an image or worship it in anyway; for I, the lord your God, am very possessive. I will not share your affection with any other god!_

-Catholic Bible, book of Exodus, page 20, 21, verse 3 to 5-

-o0o-

The main palace was alighted with running torches and the sounds of a thousands human bees shuffling back and forward in shouted orders. The streets of Tanis too were lighted in the same way and swarmed with running sentries. All the houses spotted closed doors and windows. Once in a while, a half curious half worried pair of eyes would peek through a crack on the window-sills only to yank back inside as the nearest guard approached.

It was to this scene that Set, one of the priests of the Sacred Court, arrived, his bewilderment carefully hidden behind a neutral face. In stead of a whole retinue as was demanded of his status, only one guard followed him through the central gate of the palace, passing the two great sphinxes. The sentries bowed their head low as they ran pass him but did not slow down.

Set continued on unfazed and walked in a stiff pace towards the central keep, a gigantic fortified semi-tower nestled in the center of the complex. It was here that he found the rest of the Sacred Court standing in the centre of the top of the keep. Shada was talking to one of the commanders. Isis stood to one side as she conversed in a hushed tone with the old vizier Shimon. Karim was somewhere down below, directing the influx of reporting sentries.

Leaving his guard behind, Set approached the only free priest, the magician.

"I came as was called. What is going on here?"

Mahaad looked visibly shaken. His lips were pressed into a thin line and the irises in his eyes were dilated with stress. With hesitation, he spoke.

"The city has been shut down…and is under martial law."

But Set already knew that. It was the reason why he went to the palace with only one guard in tow. Under the law, no group of more than 2 people were allowed on the streets and public places.

"What warranted such a thing?"

'That…' Thought the magician '…is a question whose answer I also want to know.'

He did not share his thought with the other priest however, opting to shake his head in stead and throw a discreet glance at the lone figure standing behind the exposed balcony, overlooking the flows of men streaming over the streets of Tanis.

If it weren't for the warm light of fire shining of his bronze skin, the king would have been a golden statue under the torches. The touch of Midas? The magician wondered. His body was still in the way that no living things should be. His stony façade was betrayed only by the wild movement of his eyes as they meticulously scanned the streets below and the almost invisible tremble of his tightly closed fists.

"We are searching for something."

"Stolen from the palace? What could be so important?"

"A boy…" Mahaad spoke in a dazed voice, as if he couldn't believe it himself. "…that looks just like our lord."

-o0o-

The eerie silence that enveloped the room was even more unbearable than the scream before it. It was suffocating.

The two priests were stunned speechless as they watched their lord. His body quivered as his hands touched the linen, damp with blood, as if he couldn't trust his eyes. A choked moan escaped from his lips as he eyed his wet fingers, now stained an ugly red.

In that moment, realization dawned on Mahaad and he swayed slightly on his feet, momentarily struck with vertigo. In front of him was no powerful king, the ruthless ruler of Kemet.

In that room with the two priests was a lost child.

It was this exact image that Mahaad had witnessed eight years ago when news had come bearing the death of the late pharaoh.

Gingerly, he inched towards his charge, helpless and unsure of what to do.

"My lord…" But the pharaoh was deaf to his voice. No. not lord, not even king nor liege.

"My…prince…" exactly the same phrase. The ever loyal Mahaad, once a close friend of the pharaoh had uttered this exact phrase eight years ago. He laid a hand gently on the other's shoulder. The pharaoh drew a sharp breath at his touch, as if yanked back to reality. He closed his eyes and muttered to himself.

"…no body, no corpse… ….. … ….alive…"

As the last word left his mouth in a whisper that seemed to breathe life into the king and Mahaad immediately withdrew his hand. He stood up and his eyes stoned into a cutting scarlet. A long breathe in. Breathe out. A single second of silence. Then…

"Call on the army"

"My lord…?"

The king turned sharply and the priests flinched at his unforgiving gaze.

"Call on the army. Shut down all routes in and out of the city. Turn on full surveillance. Declare the martial law. "

.

'…What?'

"Anyone who disobeys…" He paused to emphasize "…Kill on sight!"

They were frozen on spot and stunned confusion was all too obvious on their faces but the king's eyes left no room for questions.

"You heard me. Get going!"

With that order, the priest's numb minds snapped into learned reflex, instilled into them after years of servitude. They bended down at the same time, with the same angle and same posture, one hand over their chests like a man and his reflection and immediately left the room.

-o0o-

The search went on, lighting all of Tanis. In the palace, a mute slave was being hunted while out on the streets, royal guards knocked on noble and priest's doors.

Meanwhile, many feet below the city, in a large stone chamber, an old cloaked man sat with a book in his lap, patiently waiting for his servants. Just in time, the door opened with a screech and a man stumbled in, a human shape lump weighted heavily on his shoulders.

The old man did not look up but his keen nose detected the pungent smell of blood hanging in the air.

"He resisted?"

"No. He slept like a sack."

It was only then that the old man turned up. His assistant laid the boy down on a stone table, heaving with difficulty. The blood smeared on the semi-transparent white cloth and stuck onto pale skin but it was obvious that it did not come from the boy. The servant wheezed and nursed a slash wound on his arm, his voice gruff with pain.

"The pharaoh laid traps like a weaver wench. I did not notice this one. It was triggered only when he was moved from the bed and my hands were busy then."

"Smart boy. He took after his father."

The old man laid his book down and walked to the stone table, eager for his prize yet repelled by the stench. He sniffed disdainfully.

"Though he obviously did not inherit his sire's suave touch. My prize has been soiled. Have him cleaned. Find clothes for him, fine ones." He rang a small silver bell as he said this, smiling eagerly.

"He shall make an excellent offering."

It was done as the old man said. Several slaves were called into the room and took the sleeper with them. And soon, he was brought back, decked in pristine linen and smelling of clove oil.

Torches lit the chamber and illuminated the altar at the centre, made entirely in black marble and glinting wickedly. Up above ground, the night of Tanis was disrupted with shouted orders, complaints and threats from the resisting priests.

The warm fire shone warmly on the sleeping boy, still blissfully unaware of the coming danger. The old man traced his fingers on the ornate hilt of a ritual blade and took leisure steps around the altar, wafting in the scent of burning aroma oil. Bare hands were so primitive and below his status but some priests liked to rip the heart out themselves. He, on the other hand preferred things not so messily.

A sentry yelled and a pharaoh clutched at his pyramid almost desperately, fearing the growing anxiety burning in his chest. But they were all far away and would never be heard in this room.

The assistant watched with a hawk's eyes, memorizing everything. The knife came down on the sleeper's chest, drawing an invisible pyramid teasingly then lifted back up, positioned in a firm grip just over its carrier's head, its tip aiming for the sleeping boy's heart, waiting.

The lamp flickered and the oil burned with their last spark. The moonlight filtered and flickered down on a tiny dot. In accordance, a single thought zipped through the old man's mind.

It's time.

He swung the blade down.

-o0o-

The guard kicked the closed door down and entered despite the yelling protests of a woman then exited with a grunt.

"They have a cellar." The sentries, just waiting for that line, pushed inside in a horde. It took them a while more to come out.

"Not here either."

Set nodded absentmindedly and directed them to the next house mechanically, his head already preoccupied with streams of thoughts. The houses that they had gone through so far were the residents of nobles and priests and Set supposed it was very sharp of the king to target them right away. Someone that had the nerve, resources and motive to steal from the king could be no ordinary peasants. Even though Tanis was the capital of Kemet, the groups of noble and temple complexes weren't such a large number and wielding the power of the royal army, it was only time that they would find out the culprit.

On the other hand, however, the pharaoh wasn't going to be popular with the elite class of the city or even his people for that matter. People were scared and confused and in their eyes the pharaoh was doing something that violated their rights and endangered instead of protecting them. Set, of course, knew all too well that scared people equaled fools that can be easily manipulated by ambitious nobles whose cause for action the pharaoh had just given. This city might very well turn into a breeding ground for revolts if not carefully monitored.

The priest rode on his horse, overlooking the lines of soldiers fanning out over a circle intersection, one of the many large bazaar settings of Tanis.

Then there was the one they were searching for. Set was neither a fool nor was he blind. He had noticed the pharaoh's odd behavior but said nothing of it. He too had speculated what it could be, the thing that seemed to have all the pharaoh's attention and dedication. The fact that it was hidden only added fuel to his curiosity.

But even he could not have guessed that it was a boy. And not 'just' a boy either, but one that could have passed for the pharaoh's twin. Ammon, The hidden one, they said. If it weren't for the fact that Set knew the pharaoh was an only child, a rarity in the royal line of Kemet, because his father had died too soon, he might just think that it was really power play between brothers. Unless the late pharaoh had a bastard child that no one knew about but the priest quickly dismissed the notion. There was no need to hide his affair from a man of such status. Children in the royal family were welcome as gifts from above and carefully looked after in their young age no matter to whom they were borne, a palace lady or a slave.

A man with disheveled gray white hair and long beard shouted angrily above from an open window a block away. Set recognized him as a member of the elder council, Rakshidar. He was a man of extreme importance in his circle and even the pharaoh sometime had to abide to the preset rules from the council seeing as many of them predated even his father.

'This could get ugly!' Thought Set as he reined his horse to the direction of the councilor's house while mentally preparing himself as quickly as possible. Already he could see the curious eyes of many Tanisians peeking from barely open doors and windows.

The soldiers gave the councilor a wide berth as he stalked out the door of his house, looking like a lion with his white mane trailing behind him. Hiding behind the door with her tiny head peeking out was a small child. The councilor's grand daughter? Set immediately got off his horse and inclined his head in a polite bow.

"High-Priest Set, may this old man ask what is going on here?" The question was simple and reserved enough but there was a subtle underlining power that could only come with old age. This man didn't get to where he was for nothing and Set would be a fool if he thought that it was a question that he can choose not to answer.

"Councilor" He began, turning his eyes downward then back up again as a sign of respect.

"I'm sorry for your discomfort but under the pharaoh's order we're conducting a city-wide search. We ar…"

The councilor would never know what Set was going to say as the next second a massive explosion tore through cobblestone street just feet away and overthrowing all of them. A blinding white light blare like a nova and amidst the panicked cries of soldiers and civilians alike, Set cursed vehemently, uncaring of being heard and trying to shield his eyes from the light.

"Fucking Ra!!"

He could feel the obvious sense of magic in it but it was nothing the priest was familiar with. Set was only slightly calmed down when he sensed the warmth permeating into his cold body from the core of the nova.

Suddenly something else appeared inside the light, wrapped in tattered whips of darkness. Shadow magic. The priest exclaimed in his head before his eyes widened in recognition when he saw what was lying peacefully in the man's arm.

"Ammon" The hidden one. He was exactly like the pharaoh's description. He was the nova himself. The priest's mind snapped at the shadowy figure that was carrying Ammon. The kidnapper.

"You!!…Guards!!"

Suddenly the man made one swift move and Set had no time to brace for the impact that was coming when he threw Ammon at him before disappearing into the squeezing shadow.

The light had subsided then and Set no longer had to squint his eyes. He looked down at the boy now secured in his arms, sleeping and glowing gently in an ethereal light.

Around the priest, the guards had gathered in a large circle and civilians had poured out from their home, too shocked and commanded by instinct to remember the martial law still in place. The councilor stood paces away from him, stunned speechless.

More than half of those around had dropped to their knees and many others were gasping or sobbing deliriously either from fright or joy. They murmured at first then spoke and then shouted.

"It is a god. He is a god. Behold. God hath come to us. Behold! Ammon."

And through all of this, nestled safely in a bewildered priest's arms, the boy slept on unaware.

-o0o-

Yugi woke gradually to the feeling of wet warmth spreading through his body and a soft singing of a song that did not sound quite like one. The voice although crisp as if unused for a long time had a certain tender quality to it. It sung.

"_Wahawi ya wahawi_ _iyyahah__…"_

_He kept his eyes close as his mind tethered between slumber and full consciousness, feeling too much like a Sunday morning to wake up right away. _

The song turned into a hum then ended along with the wetness, followed by the scraping sound of a chair being pulled. A comfortable scent that reminded Yugi of soft candies that he used to eat when he was small wafted gently into his nostrils. Cool softness pulled through his body with a rustle.

Slowly he opened his eyes, blinking once then twice to get used to the sunlight flooding in through his eye-lids. He recognized the hair first, standing in spike and rimmed with red, then the bronze skin glinting with gold jewelries.

A warm familiarity overflowed him from inside as if the hole in his chest was finally filled.

The pharaoh had his back towards him and he seemed to be organizing something on the table. When he turned he did not expect the glinting amethyst eyes that greeted him. His body gave a tiny jerk and then froze stiff altogether, uncertain and unprepared of what to do or even what to say.

"Hello" Yugi smiled into the soft fur of his blanket as he said this but the king looked at him with the wide eyes of a shy child.

"You smell like coconuts." He spread his arms, bare and clean, into wings as if to say 'come here. I want another sniff.'

"I like coconuts."

A ghost of a smile appeared on the king's face before he inched in small hesitant steps towards Yugi. The shy look had disappeared and the king's eyes were warm fire.

He touched Yugi with the blades of his fingers, tracing lines on his face like a blind man trying to remember a newfound friend. There was a shine of wonder in his eyes. Yugi closed his eyes at the king's touch and smiled when he felt fingers drew a curve on his lips. His hair felt like downy in Yugi's hand. Finally, he replied.

"Hello…"

'Three thousand years for a hello…and coconuts…' The archeologist thought dreamily, still not fully awake '…seems fair.'

They stayed comfortably silent for a long time, enveloped in each other presence until Yugi was fully awake.

"I'm Yugi" He tested.

There was no recognition from the pharaoh, only acceptance, and this was where Yugi's worry began to grow.

"I'm…"

"Atem" The archeologist cut in gently "I know." And he said this in a voice that fully expressed a mutual understanding, without questions, arrogance or fail. The pharaoh looked startled at the sound of his own name as if it was a long time since he had heard it and there was also a hint of perplexity but those were quickly washed away when Yugi smoothed his fingers over his golden locks.

"How long have I been asleep?" His body felt a bit week and his joints bore the sore feeling that came after a long slumber.

"A month"

A month? So long? What had happened in this one month? Yugi could remember nothing except the splitting pain when Shadi had sent him here.

"Not so long compared to eight years. Is…"

A knock sounded from the door before a person stepped in, cutting Atem's question. Set stopped for a split second as his eyes came to rest on a very much awake Yugi but then forced himself to continue on.

"My liege, the council elders are still waiting." The priest's voice was tight and his posture somewhat rigid and as he said this, his eyes, hidden under the incline of his head and his priest cap, never left the petit archeologist.

Atem frowned exasperatedly and opened his mouth but Yugi laid a hand on his cheek, stopping him.

"It's okay. I'll still be here when you come back." _And it's quite obvious that it must be something important for a high priest to come calling._

Indecision. It was obvious that his other half wanted to stay so Yugi reasoned again.

"You're their king. Come on!"

Atem gave a curt acknowledging nod and squeezed Yugi's hand.

"If there is anything you need, just call the slaves. They are outside."

And with that, he followed Set out of the room.

Left on his own, Yugi let out a long sigh with his two hands massaging his head.

It was as he predicted, Atem had no memory of him or their time in Domino, more specifically, 'this Atem' had no idea how he got here. It was a bunch of time loop theories and chronographic science that Yugi wasn't particularly fluent in but had more than a few brushes over his time working as an archeologist and museum curator.

In his situation now, theoretically speaking there were two Atems, the first one who had laid a plan to send him back in time to the second Atem who should be and would be the rewritten version of the first Atem if the sending succeeded.

Which meant that the pharaoh he faced just now probably should have had no notion about him, the other half of his soul. But he did at the very least enough not to immediately have Yugi interrogated or executed for being an impersonator. Even though he didn't seem to know the archeologist's name, the way he behaved around Yugi was far more intimate than the first meeting between look-alikes, far more.

Something was amiss here. Some thing was left unsaid and out of the equation in his conversation with Shadi before the sending. But at the same time, according to Ishizu's words about the pharaoh's elusive behavior before Zorc's appearance, the ghost might not even know that it was there.

Questions swarmed his mind and Yugi again found himself frustratingly lost.

Did the king already perform the splitting of his soul? When did he perform it anyway in the original timeline? Was it actually because of Zorc? Why did Yugi sleep for so long? What had happened when he was unconscious? And that pain. Did something go wrong with the sending?

He raked his mind in search for any clue he might have but there was none. He did not remember anything after the sending…except for…The archeologist frowned when a hazy sense of déjà vu entered his mind.

_Dreams…_He murmured to himself. He had dreamt of something but could not remember what it was, only knowing that it was a terrible dream. He had felt so constricted, as if squeezed inside something, a frightening sense of chaining limbo.

"Why am I here anyway?" He spoke quietly to himself. Neither Shadi nor Isis had mentioned anything about his purpose here except that it had something to do with the pharaoh's 'heart desire'.

Yugi had made the choice to come here because he knew he could no longer run away from the black hole that was his life anymore and as Shadi had said, neither of them could go on without the other. But what was Atem's intention of sending him here in the first place? To stop the splitting of his soul? Then what about Yugi? Would he stand out like an extra piece to a whole soul? Or was it to help the pharaoh with Zorc?

The archeologist paused and gave more thoughts to the theory before choosing to discard it.

Why did the pharaoh fail in completely defeating Zorc? The Atem from this time had known his name and thus he should be able to summon the creator of light, Horakhty, but somehow, something had prevented him from doing so. Which also meant that the name of the pharaoh wasn't the only requirement in order to summon the supreme god. Was he meant to find out what it was?

"Jesus, this thing is giving me a headache." The archeologist grunted and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ignore the cold creep in his mind. Atem had felt strange yet familiar at the same time. Both the person he had known and loved and a complete stranger. The link between them faded and gone, no longer sustained by the magic of the Millennium Puzzle. Perhaps it was never there in the first place.

'One way or another, 18 or 3018 year old, he's still…Yami, my mou hitori no boku. He's all you've got now.' The archeologist reminded himself.

The air in the room seemed to stretch and bloat with every passing minute until Yugi resolved to mentally slap himself out of limbo.

"Well, no use letting myself rots in this bed." He said to no one in particular before pulling the fur blanket off of him and getting up from the bed, stretching his sore limbs.

It was with mild surprise that he realized he was wearing nothing but a semi transparent gown sort-of thing.

'I thought this thing was for women or priests only.'

But it was the least worry on the archeologist's mind. It was with an overwhelming sense of surreal that Yugi stood in the large oval room, finally hit with the full understanding of the situation. He was here, 3000 years too early for his time, set out for a goal that he himself wasn't clear of and aided only with the items he had brought along side with him.

Again, no family, no friends, a stranger in a strange land with nothing but uncertainty.

He took a deep breath in, swallowed the bile in his throat and took the first step.

Yugi found his backpack under a table in the corner of room, free of dust and obviously cared for. Immediately, he fished out the clothing he had packed in it, simple utility belted cream jeans and dark shirt, and put them on. He put the collar on his wrist in stead since he didn't want to give the wrong message to the people of this time. His usual outfit offered a warm and comforting familiarity in the bizarre setting.

There was no door but an invisible barrier of magic that only let itself known as Yugi passed through it with cool flutter on his skin. The hallway opened into a garden of sort, generous in space and light and full of exotic plants. Its beauty commanded all of Yugi's attention and he never noticed the entering slave with a large pottery bowl cradled in his arms.

The slave squeaked as his eyes landed on the archeologist and let go of the bowl in his shock. The bowl shattered noisily on the hard floor, spilling its watery contents all over and drawing Yugi's attention to the slave.

"Ah, are you alright?" Yugi eyed the red gash on dark skin as he approached the slave, his left hand forward and his right hand searching his utility belt for the bundle of cotton wool he always had with him for emergency first aid.

"Hey, it's okay." He said soothingly in Hieratic to the whimpering slave.

With an ease that came with practice, the archeologist cleaned the blood off and bandaged the wound in seconds, foregoing the unneeded anti-septic.

"There you go. All good again."

As Yugi did this, the slave stared at him with wide uncomprehending eyes and flailed his arms about as though he didn't know how to behave. He bolted upright and ran away the second Yugi was finished, leaving a surprised and confused archeologist kneeling on the floor of the empty hallway with only the broken pieces of a pottery bowl for company.

'Huh, was I that scary looking?' The archeologist checked his clothing but as far as he knew, ancient Egypt greeted in a fair amount of foreign traders every year so his odd garment shouldn't such be a problem.

Shaking his head, the archeologist dismissed the slave's strange behavior before turning his attention to the mess of water and hardened pieces of clay at his feet.

'They'll probably have someone over to clean this thing up. I wouldn't know what to do with it anyway.'

With that thought in his head, Yugi continued on and instead of the hallway, he walked right into the indoor garden partly to avoid another episode of frightened slave and broken things, partly because of the strange glare of light penetrating from behind the thick foliage.

The cobble stone steps crackled softly under Yugi's feet as he strode forward with his hands pushing at the tree branches.

'Such a strange place.' Thought Yugi as he eyed the setting of the garden, its faded pathway looping in decorative circles but the half roof under stone pillars was much newer and looked rather out of place in a palace garden. That coupled with the light, filtered through many layers of green leaves gave the garden a cold and almost jungle like allure.

Finally, the pathway stopped its looping and drew a straight line out under the thick foliages. In only three large steps, the archeologist was standing in an empty space clear of trees and filled with two massive stone pillar. The archeologist gasped at the scene before him.

Beyond the pillars in front of his eyes, Kemet spread out in all her glorious beauty and stole Yugi's breathe.

_Good God…_

He stood; rooted to the floor with his torso leaning against the curve of the pillar and let his eyes traced the blue length of the Nile uncoiling over the sandy white houses of the city, heady with the scent of fertile soil and baking clay bricks. The sound of cascading water interlaced with the noise of the human beehive in full activity and flew to him through the many statues and obelisks surrounding the palace.

A wild beauty barely tamed by the hands of man.

'Hundreds of years digging around in sand and old ruins… and now…'

Yugi didn't know how long he had stood there until a voice, low and crisp with age, pierced his mental wall and brought him back to reality.

"Beautiful, isn't she?"

He gave a tiny startled jerk before turning to the voice. Sitting precariously on a platform protruding out into open space like a rooting old willow tree was a man with a gray white mane and beard, decked in simple white gown and tunic. The man's face was pulled down with stern lines and his eyes were fierce despite the nostalgia in them as they admired the cityscape. The man raised his gnarled hand and brought a wooded pipe up to his lips.

"A life time and still she is as breath-taking as ever."

He sucked in a long breath through the pipe and made a gurgling noise in his throat before finally turning his head to Yugi. The piercing look from his eyes seemed to put an invisible weight on the archeologist.

"You're not from around here."

But before the archeologist could answer the man shook his head.

"Not many people wandered to this place any more."

"Am I not supposed to be here? I don't know the way around this place."

The man gave a barking laugh at the archeologist's question.

"The only man that lives in this place never comes here anymore. But say, I see you with that slave, bandaging him?"

The archeologist nodded, feeling no need to hide this fact.

"Why did you do that?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

The look that the man gave him was one of thinly veiled fascination.

"He's a slave. There are a thousand replacements for him."

The archeologist frowned at the blatant disregard in the man's voice. Even though he had mentally prepared himself before his journey didn't mean that he was comfortable with it. The ancient world was very much different in comparison to his time. Human rights and justice, normally taken for granted in his home, were luxuries that can only afforded by the richest of nobles or royalty in this place. Who was Yugi kidding? Even in the 20th century, these basic rights still weren't guaranteed for many developing countries. But how was he going to explain that to a man who had never known of the world he was in.

Yugi clicked his tongue, then spoke in a carefully neutral voice.

"I don't think so. He must be precious to someone he knows. In that sense, he can never be replaced." Yes, that was exactly what he wanted to say. Simple and to the point, and had nothing to do with a justice that only existed in poetry.

If possible, the man's eyes grew even sharper as though he was trying to look into Yugi's soul.

'He very well might be doing just that' The archeologist thought of the many magical feats he had witnessed years ago and now he was standing on the land where most of the magical items he knew originated from. Despite his worry, Yugi kept his ground and stared back into the man's eyes unflinchingly, feeling nothing but a sense of sincerity swelling inside him.

Finally, the man smiled, causing his wrinkles to pull and curl over his mouth and eyes, and then nodded approvingly.

"Well said. Well said in deed."

As he said this, he got up from his feet and brushed the dust off his clothe with his pipe before gesturing to Yugi.

"Let's go then. I'll get you to your other half."

"Wha…? Who are you?" Yugi's mind jarred in alarm but the man waved his pipe right under the archeologist's chin.

"Just an old man, they call me Rakshidar. No one of importance now, I assure you. You want answers for your questions? Lets go get them."

And with that, he looped the crooked pipe head onto the leather collar on Yugi's wrist and pulled him along. The archeologist, now baited with the possibility of finding answers to his dilemma, let the man did so without much resist.

Rakshidar walked fast for his age and he seemed to know the layout of the palace intimately because he kept turning in the most unexpected places, entering tiny alleys in-between the building only to emerge in completely different sections of the complex.

As they passed ancient buildings, the archeologist in Yugi had jumped many times at the chance of examining their archaic design but with each time, the old man pulled at him even harder and steered him back to their original route before throwing him an inquisitive look.

Finally after passing an intersection, climbing a series of stairs and turning to a corner, Rakshidar stopped in front of a decorative arch at the beginning of a marble stair leading down, and with one hand he pushed Yugi forward, the other hand swinging with his pipe.

"Look. There they are. You see them?"

The old man was pointing down at an ornate wind hole on the roof of a dome-shaped building down below. Inside it, the royal court meeting of Kemet was in full swing. It was a bit too far from their position, but Yugi could see the pharaoh's eye-catching crown of hair sitting separately from the courtiers on his throne, surround by a large circle made of his high priests. The other half of the room was filled with people, probably dignitaries if their layered attires and gaudy accessories were to go by. He couldn't hear what was going on but the look on their faces and the rapid movement of their lips seemed to indicate a tense discussion.

"Brilliant kid." Rakshidar pointed at the crowned king with a click of his tongue. " Brilliant…but still has a long way to go. Unfortunately for him, real life isn't such a clear cut battlefield as games are, and sometimes it's hard to know who's the enemy without a guiding light."

Yugi missed the discreet glance the old man threw at him.

The pipe glided to a side, by passing the High priest of the Sacred Court and pointed to the throng of dignitaries, none of them looked to be under forty.

"The Elder Council" This was accompanied by a dry snort from Rakshidar, but Yugi recognized it. In translated documents, the elder council were the leaders of the noble class, holding power over the law of ancient Egypt, at points in time, their influence over the Egyptian people was said to be as great as the pharaoh's.

The old man made a looping gesture at one of the councilors, a thin man with bronze skin that looked like a jewelry stand with his multitude of golden accessories and a lack of any visible hair. "shepherd", a hawk-like woman with her hair done up in a severe bun under a cap, "rope", lastly, a black hulk of a man with long thick dreadlocks "…and ox." He did not mention any in the rest of the council, seemingly to regard them unnecessary.

'Well, aren't we confident?' The archeologist hid the half amused, half curious glint in his eyes.

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Quite a lot. The pharaoh needs their support…or he'll be destroyed."

"What?!"

"The Kushite tribes down South, up North-Eastern the Hittite empire has been growing past the border of Qadesh, and our coast is regularly threatened by the Sea-Peoples. They…" he bit onto his pipe and sucked in a deep breath, nodding his head towards the three council members. "…hold power over the armies that guard these borders. In the center are the pharaoh and his Sacred Court whose magical powers even though rival that of an army can not be dispensed away from their lord. You see the predicament here?"

The archeologist nodded. "Usurper" It was actually quite normal in history that another or more political party existed and held power equal to that of the pharaoh, at the very least in term of economical and military strength. Still, the pharaohs were firm on their throne for the most of the time as these parties lacked the one factor that favored the pharaohs over them: the people's belief. As long as the ancient Egyptian believed that their king was their only link with the gods and would protect them as was his duty then no matter what the usurpers did, they would never completely claim the throne.

"I see what you are thinking." The old man said with an amused glint in his eyes. "These three hadn't so far done anything yet, which proves that they aren't such brutish fools I thought them to be, and that brat truly is an adequate king after all. However, something had happened yesterday, and it had changed the balance."

He paused and regarded the archeologist, his face set in an unreadable expression, prompting Yugi to look back at him in confusion.

"So you don't know it. I'm not surprised though." He waved away at the archeologist's puzzled face.

"Yesterday night, the king betrayed his people."

"I…what?!"

"He held his whole city hostage and declared that he'd kill anyone who dared to disobey, no matter women or children, armed or not, all for the sake of finding one single person."

Rakshidar leveled his pipe right under Yugi's chin and forced his face up close so that they were staring eye to eye.

"And that person is right in front of me." The gleam in his maroon-colored pupils was a crazed marvel that resembled a black-hole.

"The balance has been broken, by the king of all people. And he did this willingly, knowingly of the consequences he'd reap."

Yugi's mind was numb for a split second before he exploded into action, whipping his head toward the massive dome, his eyes widened in horror and his hands quivered without him knowing.

"You…you mean to say that right now in there…they are…"

Rakshidar laid a calming hand on the archeologist's shoulder, his face unscrewed and stretch back into their carefully neutral feature.

"No…not yet. The pharaoh is no wimp though I suspect one way or another, there will be blood-shed, both literally and not, and the odds are hardly in his favor, political-wise. But you can still help him. The situation can still be turned around"

Yugi didn't bother wondering why it was him in the first place. "How? Tell me how!"

"Quite easily. In fact, your mere presence here has already delayed the consequence."

"!!"

"You appeared out of the middle of the city in the light of a god, your whole body was like the sun, your appearance, made in the image of the pharaoh, the god's supreme servant, and the one who delivered you could have been the devil himself. You see, this is where things get tangled up. Because no one really know what happened so rumors of all sorts have surfaced. Half of the Tanisians think that you are a blessing from heaven, a salvation so to say, but the other half believed that you have forsaken the pharaoh and run away from him which is the reason for his drastic action to retrieve you. You see, all it takes is for you to openly align your self with the pharaoh. Surely a king blessed by gods is untouched by mortals."

The archeologist didn't react right away to Rakshidar's words because his head was streaming with thoughts, skeptic thoughts. It couldn't be so easy. Such talks could only work for the average religious zealot peasants. In order to persuade the royal court, he'd need status, which he didn't have. For god's sake. Yugi wasn't even a citizen of Kemet to begin with. He doubted that a political war could be stopped with the mere words of a foreigner, an unknown foreigner.

Apparently, Yugi's thoughts must have shown as Rakshidar immediately placated his worry.

"Calm yourself. I already have that covered. What we need to do right now is to get you in there and sweep some feet up."

With that, he pulled at Yugi's wrist and started walking towards the closed and heavily guarded gate of the throne room.

-o0o-

The door to the throne room was opened with a loud bang, prompting many surprised and angry glares from the occupants inside. A man shouted.

"This meeting is confidential. Who dare…" He cut himself off. "High councilor?!"

'High councilor?' Thought Yugi as he stole a glance at Rakshidar, his petite form hidden behind the now identified high-councilor's tall frame and billowing robe. Sun light entered from behind his back and warmed away the cream gray tint inside of the gigantic chamber, somehow providing a sort of mental support for the archeologist.

Rakshidar wasn't deterred however and continued his tread with the leisure grace of a great feline further into the war zone. He did not acknowledge any one but the pharaoh.

"My liege…" Said Rakshidar in a rumbling basso tone. "…please forgive your servant. These old bones aren't as quick as they once were."

He bended down and coughed lightly as if to demonstrate.

"But I think I'm not late, aren't I?" Finally, he turned to the council all of whom were wearing frowns or puzzlement on their faces. The petite archeologist still mostly hidden behind him and away from the scrutinizing stares of the courtiers.

"My fellow, I want to share something with you today. On my way here, I contemplated on my experience, my duty as a member of the council and as a child of Ra."

He looked at each of them in the eye and put weight onto each of his words.

"Trust in my king."

Some of the councilors had to visibly suppress their winces. The Sacred Court however were spotting the very opposite look.

"And faith in my gods."

Then Rakshidar turned back to the pharaoh who remained curiously blank and silent, and with a gentle nudge, he pushed Yugi forward as if presenting a present, eliciting many startled gasps from both the council and the high priests.

"My liege, I believe this heavenly avatar was lost, and now returned to you."

The reaction was instantaneous and came from many different voices at once.

"Heresy!!"

"Where are your proofs?"

"He's nothing but a commoner, a foreigner!"

"He has no part in this, no place here!"

Rakshidar retaliated right away.

"Oh but he has!" He said as if stating a fact, and before the shocked eyes of the royal court and one petite archeologist, the high councilor kneeled down on one leg in front of Yugi, his head bowed and his hand crossing his chest in an absolute obedient posture. There was no hesitation in his movement.

"I, Ismal Rakshidar, hereby pledged myself to this man. My status shall be his, my title and power shall be his… and so will all my property and family."

Slowly as if to savor the moment, he stood up amidst the shell-shocked looks from the court and smiled triumphantly.

"He is now your equal."

Immediately, outraged cries sounded from the council, a multitude of conflicting racket and demand that this madman be thrown out of the hall but nothing could be done to reverse the high councilor's vow.

In the middle of this bedlam stood a very confused and disturbed archeologist. Yugi felt an inkling that he had just got in something severely over his head. He was gobsmacked by this new turn of events. In one single move, Rakshidar had given him the exact tool he needed in order to hold his ground in the palace and helped defend Atem. Yet Yugi felt even more lost than before. Why did he do that? Why paid such a price?

In his daze, the archeologist turned to the one single person he was familiar with in this time, the pharaoh. He did not expect what he'd see.

Atem sat in his throne, looking like he was wearing an invisible set of armor, his wiry muscle stiff and his face curiously blank. His whole attention was focused on Yugi, and it was then, as Yugi stared back into his ruby-colored irises that he saw something that froze his whole being.

Something seemed to lurk underneath the king's eyes, a frighteningly intense emotion. Atem did not stare and nor did he gaze. He did not crease his brows or crook his lips. He simply looked at Yugi, but in that look was a whole world on its own.

Unbiddenly, a strange emotion overtook the archeologist. The noise around him shrunk down to the buzzing of flies, and for that moment, it was as though that they were the only two in the room.

'What is it? What are you trying to tell me?' Yugi called out without any sound.

The pharaoh made no move, and he continued to look. The emotions in his eyes seemed to pile up with every second, turning even more intense, and at the same time, more desperate somehow.

And suddenly, it dawned on Yugi.

_The pharaoh's heart desire_. Said Shadi.

His own thoughts before he came here_. _

_He had no friends, only rivals, enemies, and temporary allies. Anything he did he had to consider carefully if he wanted to keep his throne…and his life and trust was not easy. There was no mentioning of any prominent figures in his life, no mother, sisters or brothers, no lovers either. He had a whole harem …but no favorite. _

_A king that had lost his own heart._

_He's a fucking Mary Sue…_Sa-ad grunted.

_Why would he do something so stupid? Why split his soul in the first place and leave a hole in the seal? Why did he call Yugi back?_

_Not so long compared to eight years_. Murmured Atem when they were in his room earlier. _Not so long…Not so long after all… _

'Oh, god. It makes so much sense.' The archeologist thought numbly.

He had always wondered just how did Atem hold up to all that pressure and scrutiny in his life, him, a person who never had anything to fight for. Yami had always appeared so confident, so much that sometime he seemed a mask, a fake appearance put up to defend and detach the real person who was inside. As he researched on the lost pharaoh, things became even more troubling as the tension in the palace was clearer with every new discovery he made.

What sort of a person that can cope with that without turning insane? Even 3000 years after, the several first times he had appeared, the spirits of the king had seemed disturbingly unstable and extremely violent. But gradually he had softened down.

The question was how? In order to do that, he needed some sort of mental anchor. And for a person who had grown up with no one but servants and enemies, what could be a better anchor than someone he could trust?

Eight years, he said? He had waited for me for eight years but never knew my name. A ten year old child wouldn't know how to perform such a magical feat, which meant that someone else had done the soul splitting, possibly against the wish of the pharaoh. Something had happened eight years ago within the privacy of the palace and had been kept a secret since then.

Like a puzzle finally being put together, an image surfaced in Yugi's mind, that of a ten year old child, isolated, detached and forced to grow up as fast as he could to endure the harshness of imperial life, yet at the same time, wishing, hoping for someone who he could trust, who'd never betray him.

All too easily, he connected the next dots. And what if said child knew about the other half of his soul, the one single who would never betray him, the absolute trustee. Involuntarily, that forlorn but constant hope had turned into the anchor that he needed to stay sane.

'Is that why? Is that why you went to such length to ensure that we'd meet, no matter how many thousand year stands between us? Is it the reason you'd take on the risk of freeing Zorc? All for me?'

Again, there was no forthcoming reply, but Yugi wasn't worried. In fact, he had never felt this calm before. Around him, the quarrels were still going on, but he paid them no attention. None of them mattered.

Yugi took the first step, then the second step, his eyes forward and his heart at peace, finally after three long years. With each of his step, he drew more and more attention from the others but none of the councilor dared to stop him. They could see now, all too obvious as the archeologist drew nearer and nearer to their pharaoh, the startling similarities between the two.

As Yugi broke over the twenty step barrier that the Sacred Court moved, finally broken out of their stupor and fanned out in front as if to stop him.

Yugi merely smiled and nodded in acknowledgement at each of them before doing something that, even though he didn't mean to, stunned them all and ascertained him as a true avatar of gods to the rest of the council.

"Mahaad" The magician jerked as if hit, his eyes widened comically.

Step

"Shada" The high-priest griped tightly onto his Millennium Key, his fingers turning white.

Step

"Isis" A gasp muffled between her bronze hands.

Step

"Karim" The Millennium Scale jiggled lightly in the priest's fist.

Right hand turn

"Set" The incarnation of his close friend stared at him, his face unreadable.

Then left.

"Akhnadin" The old priest hid his normal eye under the hood of his ceremonial garb.

Then the last one that stood between him and the pharaoh.

"Shimon" The bulbous eyes widened even larger and a quite murmur escaped from behind his veil. "It is you"

Another step, although Yugi had no knowledge of this until much later, he had just broken through the forbidden barrier of fifteen paces away from the king and had crossed over this no man's land zone completely oblivious to the unbelieving wide eyes of the whole court. As he did this, his eyes never left the figure sitting very still on the throne in barely reigned anxious eagerness.

There was a pause as they gazed at each other, ruby to amethyst, before Yugi bended down and embraced Atem in his arms, his nose and breath tickling the other's ears as he whispered a secret that would stay between them two only.

In that moment, slowly, like a sun rising after the storm, before the shaken court and priests, after eight years long, the king smiled.

'_I'm here. I'm here for you.'_

-o0o-

-o0o-

The candles lit the long dark hallway with a warm light as the servant followed his master's steady pace, passing after many doors toward the end of the hall.

"I still don't understand why you let him go. We had him right there. Did you find him not worthy" Said the servant to break the monotony of the long walk.

There was an annoyed sigh from the master.

"He's no good to me dead. I already have what I require for now. And on the contrary, I find this apple much more appealing than previously thought."

"Still, we could have him imprisoned. They would never find out."

"Have a bit of faith in your sire!" The master reprimanded. "He's not yet ripe and he won't be in a dank prison cell. All fruits need sunlight. And I never said that I freed him…completely."

He clicked his tongue before continuing.

"Don't forget to have surveillance on Rakshidar. I want to know what he's on to."

"I have it on. I don't see why though. He's just a senile geezer, throwing away everything like that…." He was cut off immediately as his master stopped abruptly and snarled.

"Do NOT forget your place!"

"My apology, sire!"

The old man huffed before resuming his walk onward.

"Rakshidar is no fool. He has been in the council even before the late pharaoh's reign and he still is now. Your lack of vigilance today cost me a great opportunity. Did you not know the meaning of his action, however insane it is?"

The servant was meekly quiet as they passed another door.

"Not even a day before Ammon appeared publicly; he had already perceived his importance, located and befriended him. Within the same day, he gained his trust with one single maneuver, that pledge. That insane move as you called it effectively puts him into position to gain more information on Ammon allegedly and keeps others from influencing Ammon without his knowledge. I dare say that some councilors are quite vexed today. But that's not all, that move also serves to lower the other's guard, exactly like you did. Luckily for you, this won't affect us much"

"But sire, isn't there a risk as well. He did give away all his property, power and title…to a stranger."

The old man nodded approvingly.

"True, but all political maneuvers contain risk. Rakshidar didn't get where he is for nothing. Within the time after the pharaoh left Ammon and before they arrived in the throne room he had come to decide whether he could risk this move on Ammon or not. He's very confident on his judge of character…and incredibly decisive as well. But he's not reckless; he must have already planned a fall-back."

"He did?"

""Of course he would. It was only a pledge, mere spoken words. The duty of an elder councilor and managing of his estates are much more complex than that. Any man with a brain would keep Rakshidar as an advisor or maybe as the manager, especially after such a spectacular show of trust. Even if that comes to fail, Rakshidar had more loyal followers than needed to…dispose off Ammon, and no one would suspect him the trusted…and senile servant."

"I see"

They finally arrived at the end of a hall. The old man paused in wait for his servant to push open the heavy stone door and settled inside the room.

"What I want to know is for what reason did he do that? He has not been active in the council for quite sometime now. What made him return?"

The servant heaved as he pulled a leather cover from its place in the middle of the room, exposing an oubliette on the floor, filled to the brim with clear water.

"Shouldn't the status of Ammon be enough? Today already demonstrated that."

From within his robe, the old man pulled out a bottle and poured a clear liquid into the oubliette. The water turned a dark blue as the two mixed.

"You were still a child when Rakshidar got to his position…even I was, in a way. If he wanted to, he could have already taken over the court but Rakshidar never did that. There were ample opportunities over the years but he never took them. And he never cared for the pharaoh's favor. In fact, he had voiced his disagreement with the royal family, both generations, many times before. He is…eccentric."

The old man's voice turned thoughtful once again.

"Why now? After so many years of inactivity. What is his aim?"

The old man paused for a moment before waving away the distraction. He had something to do now.

With a certain amount of reverence, the old man took a small vial from his belt.

"The blood of a god!"

Then he stopped suddenly and narrowed his eyes at his servant who was standing in wait on the other side of the oubliette.

"This is not for your eyes. Wait outside."

The servant did as he was told obediently and within moments, the old man was left alone in the stone chamber with the oubliette.

He raised the vial to his eye and stared at it as if to savor the moment, his thoughts quickly turned nostalgic.

Eight years. Eight. Long. Years. Finally, he'd know the truth.

He removed the stopper and poured the scarlet blood, perfectly preserved with magic into the water, careful not to spill even one precious drop.

The water turned red for a second before churning and bubbling. The liquid condensed and formed odd shapes on the surface before clearing out once again and revealed images in them.

There was no sound as a light shone in the oubliette and illuminated the interior of a room on the surface of the water. A woman sat in a plush arm chair, rocking a baby gently in her arms, her glossy black hair let down in long rivulets, her amethyst eyes shone in the warm fire and reminded him of an identical pair of eyes he had seen just a day ago.

"Neferee…" The name escaped from his lips in a whisper. His stance softened a bit before steeling back up again. The gold of his single eye gleamed in the light.

He had ordered ninety-nine lives killed for his brother. But for her, every man he had murdered was by his own hands, their last curses, last breath, their dying screams would forever haunt him but he would never regret any of them.

The woman's lips moved as she continued her lullaby to her child. He sung along quietly. This melody he knew very well.

"_Wahawi ya wahawi…_ _iyyahah…_ _Ruht ya Sha'ban…Gayt ya Ramadan iyyahah"_

The old man's song was cut short when all of s sudden, the image changed. The room was still the same but the occupants were different. The child had grown into a boy with his mother's glossy black hair and his father's golden bangs. He was speaking to his mother but something was obviously wrong in the scene as the lady was crying hysterically, a strange gleam in her eyes as he looked down on her child.

The boy spoke again as though he was trying to calm her down but the woman was too distressed, and soon her mouth was open in a soundless scream and made a lunge at the boy.

There was a white flash before her body was shown on the floor, lying face down in a large puddle of blood. The boy stood above her with his face hidden away, a bloody knife in his hand.

The image stopped then and the water cleared out. The light died and plunged the room into semi darkness again.

The silence was loud and seemed to stretch over the room. Under the flickering candle, the old man had his face down. A quiet choked sound like breaking stones. Then another and another, and they grew louder and slapped against the cold stones to form into thundering laughter that sounded half like wailing. The old man's mouth was spread into a savage grin, but his wide open eyes were streaming with tears.

The knocking sound from the door was crushed under the mad cacophony of wild guffaws and sobbing hiccups.

"Oh, king!" The old man said between gritted teeth, salty with tears and blood. "Twice! I held your life in my hands and I spared it…."

His fingers tightened around the vial, crushing into the clay until it broke, its pieces digging deeply into his flesh.

"…there will not be a third time!"

**End chapter 2**

And so the board is prepared, soon players will appear. So how was that for ancient Egypt palace life? I don't know how to say this but I was severely disappointed at the way Kemet political matters were portrayed in the original series. They wanted me to believe that a group of seven people and a brat along with a few spear-wielding guards can govern a country as big as England? Yeah, right. Dream on. Any way, I did warn you that I'll bring a lot of realistic and headache causing political science into this and this is as close s the real thing as I can get and still incorporate elements from the series (Sacred Court and all that).

On another note, Atem's personality was a challenge to me. I actually think of him as a different person from Yami. There's a three thousand years difference between them after all. Also I didn't want it to be so easy a relationship and logically there will be no mental link yet between him and Yugi.

I had a headache trying to lace the political fights, the historical facts (wars, conflicts and such) together with the emotional bonding between Atem and Yugi. Chaotic, Completely crazy I tell you. When I finally finished the throne room scene, I actually stood up to do a victory dance I was feeling so great.

Ammon, if you don't know, is a variation of Amun, a real Egyptian god that surfaced around the time of Atem's reign, the new kingdom. His name means the hidden one. I had plenty of fun writing Yugi as the original sauce of this god.

Also, I've set up a gallery of conceptual arts for this fic, along with a few other fanfics I like in my profile, so you can go and check it out Yugi's and soon Atem's stuff. I didn't exactly get the right look I wanted for Yugi but the clothing, positions and others were fun to draw. I did draw out some scenes too but I doubt I'll be posting that.

Again, I'll try to update within 2 to 3 weeks. But I can't promise anything because quiz is coming fast for me. So let's cross our fingers again and hope that nothing too big will stand between me and finished the next chapter.


End file.
